


My Lucky One

by myawfod



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: AU, Coffee Shop!Louise, M/M, artist!Phil, kinda coffee shop, writer!Dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 06:53:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8479492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myawfod/pseuds/myawfod
Summary: When moving out of old flats to get muse, Dan and Phil have the awkward issue of 'the landlord mistook us for the same person and we both need this place'. Fortunately, Phil's a head-in-the-clouds artist, and Dan's a half-determined writer- they're not that different, right? But when Dan's story is not ready to sell and Phil's art is not quite right, how do they pay the ever-piling bills at their doorstep?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a PBB fic, so it's been in the works since around May. It's been the longest piece I've written thus far, and it's taught me a lot.  
> Thank you so much to @thewonderfulthingaboutfish- El, I couldn't have done this without you.  
> And to @flowerchildphangirl- for the super-duper amazing art you can find here[ (x)](http://flowerchildphangirl.tumblr.com/post/152770604734/drawn-for-the-story-my-lucky-one-oh-my-god-this)  
> To all the PBB mods, especially Alex and Kirouji- thank you for running this event!  
> enjoy~

 

“Maybe that’s what love meant, both people thinking they were the lucky one.” 

-Meera Syal

Dan loved the tap-tap-tapping of his keyboard at such a late hour of the night. The words and ideas flowed from him like water, pouring through his veins and splashing onto the keyboard, a whirlwind of characters and ideas and motions appearing on the Word document in front of him. The characters came to life in his mind, playing out a movie screen inside Dan’s head. 

And then the flow slowed down, Dan taking more time to backspace than to type, his muse running low. Then it was over. He blew out a breath of air and pushed himself out from the desk, whooshing across the room in his office chair, and stopping himself just before he crashed into the wall. Sighing and rubbing his eyes, he glanced at the clock on the wall. Three am, or thereabouts. He sighed and righted his office, saving his work multiple times before slamming his laptop lid shut. A solid four hours at the draft. He stretched, hands hitting the ceiling and his body slightly arched to avoid hitting the shelf behind him.

He padded out of his writing cave and into the rest of his flat, mumbling indistinctly about going grocery shopping tomorrow to himself. He reached the coffee machine, and opened the cupboards, making sure to lean back to avoid whacking himself in the head.

“Uuugggh,” he groaned, slamming the cupboard shut. There was no coffee left, and he really needed a caffeine hit to tide him over until the sun came up and it was work time. It was time for him to venture out into the world, three-am edition. He grabbed his keys from where they were sitting on the hallway bench, acting as a paperweight for bills and letters from his publisher. 

His phone was unplugged from his charger, wallet found in yesterday’s jeans and he was ready to go. He glanced sideways at his reflection in the mirror, stopping and turning to fix his fringe and make sure he looked awake (or at least alive).

The crisp air outside definitely woke Dan up, his sneakers slapping the pavement loudly. He always had mixed feelings about being out in the early morning, on one hand, it was exhilarating to be up and about when the rest of the world was still resting. On the other hand, he was also afraid, as night time is thug time, and he really didn’t feel like getting mugged. The nearest Tesco couldn’t come fast enough for him, whose imagination was getting the best of his common sense. Every noise was the sound of a robber creeping up on him, every movement in his peripheral vision was the first glancing blow. 

He entered the supermarket and let out a small breath, glad his walk was halfway done. Smiling awkwardly at the attendant, he ducked into an aisle, finding his way easily to the instant coffee and picking up some milk and a few pens as well. Dumping his wares on the counter, he smiled, getting out his credit card quickly.

Minutes later he was out, merrily swinging his bag and watching it glint in the orange street light. The reality mixed with a good dose of imagination struck him like a lightning bolt, and soon he was creeping along the storefronts, wary of oddly shaped shadows and anything that made a noise.

~~~

Phil, once again, had been on the internet for most of the night, finding many interesting links to star facts and horoscopes and animal pictures. The crash of a fight in the alley was a welcome interruption for the exhausted artist, who at once glanced at the clock on the bottom corner of his screen, doing a double take as the time registered in his head.

“Three twenty-one AM?!” Phil exclaimed, then covering his mouth with his hands, recognizing that not that many were awake at this hour, and his neighbours certainly did not want to be either.

Bored, he opened his tumblr to message a friend. 

starpaintandphil: hey

starpaintandphil: are you up?

doodlesofPJ: i am now, thank you very much

starpaintandphil: sorry.

doodlesofPJ: i’m joking

you just can’t hear the sarcasm

starpaintandphil: oh. okay.

doodlesofPJ: lost muse again?

starpaintandphil: you know me, of course.

doodlesofPJ: ah, thought so

want to join a fellow museless artist for tea?

starpaintandphil: be right over

doodlesofPJ: see you soon

don’t get abducted.

starpaintandphil: hahaha

doodlesofPJ: seriously though- don’t

Phil closed his laptop, sliding it into its hand-painted case, and slipping that into his messenger bag. On a whim, he threw in a new board game he bought, his ‘PJ’s house’ socks and some pencils of varying lengths and colours.

The night was alive to the blue eyes of Phil, every person a carrier of a story and a piece of art. Phil enjoyed the sound his sneakers made against the pavement and the sound of the pedestrian crossing lamp beeping as he waited obediently for the empty road to be ‘safe’ to cross. 

He arrived at PJ’s house without incident, knocking twice and taking his shoes off as his friend answered the door.

“Welcome back, Phil. What game are we playing today?”

Phil reached into his messenger bag, clattering around with his pencils to create suspense before bringing out Operation.

PJ smiled and walked to the kitchen for the kettle that had finished boiling. Phil moved in and started getting set up on the gaming table. He had chosen this one specifically because he was stressed and annoyed, and needed to take his mind off his art.

“Chamomile, green or ginger?” PJ called, peering over his shoulder at Phil.

“Ginger,” Phil replied, trusting that PJ would get his tea right. 

“Peppermint, as well,” Phil added, PJ nodding with his focus back on the beverages, which were shortly brought over. Two cups for Phil, one for Tiredness and another for Lack of Muse. PJ himself had raspberry, Earl Grey and Chai- Unfinished Doodle That I Can’t Get Finished, Need of Relaxation and Thinking Too Much About Things That Do and Don’t Matter.

“So, how deep did you go tonight, Phil?”

“Star facts, PJ. It was a long, winding road.” PJ nodded and sipped to that, Phil following suit.

“How far did you get with the doodle?”

“Head and legs.”

“Good work, PJ.”

“You too, Phil.”

They both sipped to each other and began their game of Operation, the pair of them throwing half-hearted insults at each other until the sun decided to peek over the horizon.

“Ah, it seems our time together is nearly over.”

“So it nearly is, Peej.”

Now was the part of the routine in which they confessed the deeper thoughts. Phil indicated for PJ to begin, and so he did, rambling about the existence of other life forms and the probability of other planets, a recurring theme for the doodler.

Phil nodded and sipped sympathetically, nearly down to the dregs of his last cup. He inhaled deeply, and began his quick expulsion of feelings, as was per usual.

“I think my flat is killing my muse and I can’t sleep too well and my paintings are worse and nothing is helping and I think I need to get out of here, plus my flat’s  _ really _ small and I’m not sure I can stand it for much longer.”

Phil gasped to regain his breath whilst PJ blew out in a low whistle.

“Well, Phil, you can move out. You have enough leftover funds and a move is what you need.”

“B-but… I have roots here! I have you, and the house, and… Jennie down the shop…”Phil retorted weakly.

“You know as well as I do that you’re holding yourself back. I’ve told you before. You have potential, right  _ here.” _ Peej poked Phil in the chest.

“You just don’t use it enough, and you can’t in the environment you’re in. You need… environment.”

“Mmmm…”

“You know I’m right,” PJ giggled, pushing Phil gently to the side.

“Yeah. I’ll have a look at some properties…” Phil yawned, and PJ shook his head.

“I’ll send you any I find.  _ You, _ however, need to sleep. Good night, Phil.”

“Night, PJ,” Phil replied, hugging PJ and then collecting his things, moving out the front door with a friendly wave.

~~~

Dan looked curiously at the man walking down the path across the road, wondering why he had bothered with traffic lights when it was only them out. He mentally shrugged and walked into the apartment building, taking several flights of stairs before reaching his own.

The door was unlocked, which threw Dan off. He was sure he locked his apartment when he left, and he used the light of his phone to see past the door frame, listening for murderers stepping carefully through the dimly-lit flat.

He reached the living room after a long (and rather torturous) trek through the hallway, discovering the source of the intrusion.

“Chris, you dickhead.”

“Glad you’re finally here, Daniel. Only twenty minutes this time.”

Dan rolled his eyes and sunk into his too-small couch, grabbing the remote from where it lay beside Chris and changing it to a Dr Who rerun.

The pair settled in comfortably for a few minutes, before Chris decided Dan had his grace period to enjoy the show.

“Hey Dan.”

“Fuck off Chris.”

“Dan, guess what.”

“Shut up, I’m watching.”

“Hey Dan, my feet can reach the TV from here, and I’m short.”

“I  _ know, _ Chris. You’ve told me. I can’t stretch up for fear of hitting the ceiling.”

Chris stared quizzically at Dan for a second, like a confused squirrel.

“Move.”

“I’m perfectly comfortable right here, you move.”

“Fuck no. I mean Move, capital M, as in move house. You hate this flat.”

Dan lurched out of position as he stared at Chris, appalled.

“ _ Jesus, _ Chris, I can’t just up and move! I have no money! No family or friends who’ll take me in!”

Chris just waited patiently until Dan finished ranting about the twenty reasons he couldn’t move, which sounded just like what happened last time Chris had suggested a change of house.

“Dan, you’re your own barrier. I’ve found a wonderful property in a small town. You can get out of the city, and try small town life. You’re booked in for a viewing at 12 at Sunday. Don’t be late. Info is bookmarked on your Mac. See you later.”

And with that, Chris upped and left, leaving Dan blinking and shell-shocked as the door slammed in Chris’ wake.

After a few minutes of a whirlwind of emotions, he opened his MacBook, finding the property for rent in a small town of three thousand, with prices that the listing site called “a steal”. 

Dan slammed the laptop shut after checking the time (4:18am, two hours till work at the newsagents) and puttered to the kitchen to finally get his coffee. The relief of the bitter stimulant wore off too soon for Dan to get much more work done on his manuscript, and instead Dan moved to his bedroom, hoping to look a little bit more presentable for the house viewing tomorrow. The thought of  _ leaving  _ brought a small smile to Dan’s face as he fell into the void of sleep.

 

The next morning, Dan’s shoulder bag swung precariously close to a lady as he boarded the underground, puffing and out of breath from nearly missing the train, his boss not letting him go on time. He looked around and cursed under his breath as he saw there were no seats available, and grasped onto an overhead pole (not a difficulty for his height) just as the train jerked into action, narrowly avoiding an awkward encounter in which he fell on an old lady’s lap.

Twenty minutes later and Dan was strolling the streets on the outskirts of London, the city watching ominously as Dan got on a train, travelling speedily to the small town of Framlingham.

~~~

Phil’s watch went off at two thirty in the afternoon, jolting him out of his slumber and his position on the couch simultaneously, which sent his MacBook crashing to the floor. He winced as he picked it up, and breathed a sigh of relief when he discovered it to be whole.

He checked the time, letting out a small yelp. He hadn’t meant to sleep in this late. His inbox had PJ’s recommendations, and one of the flats and its surrounding environment capturing his attention as he scrolled through the options. He viewed the open house times, which fortunately were today, and started to collect his ‘going out’ things- a messenger bag filled with distractions for the train ride ahead.

Determined, he got ready, packing his usual bag and triple-checking to make sure he looked presentable before walking to PJ’s house, needing a pep-talk beforehand from the only person who knew how.

 

Phil left PJ’s half an hour later, much more confident in his choice and disposable mug in hand. He took the stairs down to the Underground, nearly tripping but catching himself in time, the tea spilling onto the floor in front of him. He checked the timetable and found the place- The Knoll, Framlingham.

Phil arrived without further incident and swiped his Oyster card, deciding to walk the rest of the way. He had done some further research on his phone on the journey, and had found out that Framlingham had a castle and a forest around, which sounded promising to Phil. He followed the ‘open house’ signs to the flat, number 3, apartment 12, and knocked on the door, waiting until the owner opened it and smiled. 

“Come in, lad, come ‘ave a look around,” the man crowed, swinging open the door and allowing Phil entry. 

“Come again I see? This eager already?” 

Phil simply ignored him unintentionally, gaze wandering the living space and his mind already whizzing to paint in an image of what Phil would do with the space. The landlord simply muttered something about ‘dreaming youths these days’ and shut the door, striding into the yard. Phil took in the old brick flat, the fireplace, the holes in the walls, the stories it could hold. He finally arrived back at the front door and exited, his jaw dropping at the beautiful orchid forest leering over the small fence at the back of the lot. 

“She’s a beauty, eh?” the man said, opening the gate seeing as Phil couldn’t figure out how to. Phil was entranced by the beauty of the trees, the light dancing in between the pink and purple blossoms. 

“They say that the faeries light up the forest on the full moon with magic dust,” he chuckled, turning and guiding Phil back through.

“I ‘spect I’ll be talking to you soon, yeah? Here’s another card.” the landlord said, handing him a plain piece of paper with an email scrawled on it.

“You should already have me number, s’pose.”

“Thanks.” Phil answered distractedly, patting the wall once more on his way out.

Phil left the house and walked to the end of the street, taking a left and walking to the cafe just down the road, quickly gallivanting through someone’s yard to arrive there.

After a nice chai latte (not as good as PJ’s) and a croissant, Phil spotted a cab stopping across the road depositing its passenger onto the footpath. In one fluid movement, Phil whipped out money and slid it under the mug, swung his bag onto his shoulder and pushed his chair in, and then raced down the staircase and across the road, hailing the driver and finding his ride home.

~~~

Several weeks and stacks of paperwork later, Dan was the official renter of the small flat. It was moving day, and Dan was taking one last look longingly around his old flat, all his life packed into the little cardboard boxes around his feet. He would certainly remember this place, the first place after he moved from uni. He patted the wall fondly, and turned around to face Chris. 

“Aw, I’m gonna miss you,” Chris said, wrapping his arms around Dan.

“I’m gonna miss you too, crabby. You can message me sometime when I’m famous,”

Chris laughed. “As if. You’re more likely to me messaging me for financial help in three weeks time.”

This time it was Dan’s turn to laugh. 

“In all honesty though, mate, it’s not gonna be the same around here without you,” Chris said, sobering as he pulled away.

“I know. I’ll be back soon, just to make sure you haven’t hooked up with too many girls,” Dan said, winking and then pulling Chris in again for a final hug.

“See you around. Mark’ll probably have Tom with him, so more hands to unpack. Just keep ‘em busy or they’ll disappear, trust me. Right, best be going, work starts in- shit,” Chris swore, giving Dan his best wishes and sprinting out, leaving Dan to move all of the boxes down the stairs to the waiting ute.

~~~

Phil hugged PJ once more, another tear slipping out at the thought of having to leave his lifelong friend. 

“You promise to call, and write, and paint, and message?” Peej asked again, and Phil nodded, not trusting his voice.

They embraced a final time, and Phil watched, wiping away tears as his only constant friend walked away. Phil shook his head of any remaining tears and got in his cousin’s van, smiling nervously at the change ahead.

Two hours later, Phil disembarked from the van, his cousin giving him a reassuring smile and a word of advice.

“Phil, you listen to me. Change is for the better, and unexpected ones more so. Good luck.”

And then all that was left was Phil, his cousin’s van and… Was that a ute?

Phil stood awkwardly around, but then moved forward, readying himself for conversation. As someone turned around, unloading a box, he smiled.

However, the reception he came to was nothing less than hard-wired annoyance from the man in his early thirties.

“Um...?” Phil questioned softly to himself.

He grunted and strode away, and Phil followed him with his eyes, spying another man helping him unpack. He was on the verge of introducing himself when a cough sounded from behind him. Whipping around to face the voice, he saw a brunet. 

“Um… sorry to ask, but… what are you doing here?” The brunet asked, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. 

“Lucky one,” Phil muttered under his breath, seeing the three of them, and the guy raised an eyebrow (Phil was always a loud mutterer).

“Well, um, I’m moving into flat twelve. ” Phil said, straightening up slightly and then lightly tapping his forehead with his palm.

“Forgetful old me. I’m Phil, Phil Lester, by the way,”

“Dan,” he replied shortly. “I thought that too, but apparently not.”

“Oh. So how long have you had an eye on the flat?”

“About a month. You?”

“Same.”

Dan rolled his eyes in response. Phil moved over, patting Dan’s arm awkwardly.

“It’s okay. We’ll sort this out.”

Dan narrowed his eyes at a place in the distance, but then turned around and set his chin.

“Right. Time to sort this out. Come on, Lester, time to talk with the landlord.”

~~~

Dan strode over to the older man with an air of authority he never knew he had. Drawing himself up to his full height, he began.

“Um, excuse me, Sir? Lester and I have appeared to have both requested to lease this flat. I don’t know what’s happening, but I’m assuming you do.”

“Ah- yes, alrighty. I did always wonder why I got two sets of paperwork.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Dan murmured under his breath, Phil stifling a chuckle.

“Look, the pair o’ ya, the government hardly cares about this part o’town. If you both just move in together, it’d save a hell of a lot of paperwork for everyone, yourselves included. Considering I didn’t even realise ye were separate people, I’m sure you’ll get on like a house on fire. Pardon the metaphor.” He chuckled, and Phil turned to Dan. 

“Just give us a minute, sir.” Phil pulled Dan by the elbow behind one of the couches, out of earshot of the landlord.

“What are you thinking?” Phil asked, tilting his head. 

Dan shook his in return. “Still in what-the-fuck mode. You go. Lucky one.” Dan had muttered the last bit under his breath, mocking what Phil had said earlier.

“I mean, it’s not a terrible idea. The flat’s big enough for two people. I was planning to use the second bedroom as a studio or office or whatever, but I was fine without one in my old place.”

“Yeah, me too. But really? I mean, we barely know each other. We literally just met. You could be a serial killer for all I know.”

“So could you. Honour system, then? I promise I am not a serial killer or murderer or anything else terrible.” Phil raised his right hand in the air, like he’d seen on tv (surprisingly, there wasn’t many show options at three am).

Dan shrugged. “Guess I’m just gonna have to take your word for it then. I’m not a murderer either, swear.”

“Okay, so should we do like... a trial run? Like a month, and if we don’t get along, we flip a coin and the loser has to move out.”

“The lease agreements though… I’m down for a six month lease. If we end up hating each other, within six months we’ll have destroyed the building.”

“Yeah, good idea... I’d forgotten all about that, I’m here for at least six months as well. Okay, the loser of the coin flip has to build a giant dividing wall through the flat.”

“Or put down tape.”

“Or even gladwrap.”

The pair chuckled quietly, Dan looking to see the landlord tapping his foot impatiently.

“So, flat buddies?”

“I always thought it was flatmates, but flat buddies all the same.” Phil beamed, shaking Dan’s outstretched hand.

They walked over to the landlord, and the new flatmates explained the situation to him. 

“Well, I’ll let you two unpack, and I’ll be over tomorrow to talk about the contracts and such. They might need a bit of tweaking, what with two people and all. See ya!” The landlord tipped his hat and walked away. 

They turn around to instruct the platoon, but any relatives seemed to have vanished, all that was remaining was their boxes.

Dan looked around in disbelief, then face-palming. 

“God damn it! Chris told me. He told me! Unngh.” Dan was ready to slump onto the grass, but Phil grabbed him by the upper arm and hauled him upright.

“Come on Dan, let’s go plan out the house.”

“Okay, Lester. I mean, Phil.”

“Hang on, what’s your last name again?”

“Howell.”

~~~

Dan laughed at Phil, fondly nudging him. “C’mon, we still haven’t found a place for  _ my _ couch.”

Over the course of five hours (it would have been three if both of them hadn’t injured themselves so much) they had moved in and were beginning to learn about each other. 

Dan knew that Phil loved bubble tea (which he had never tried), exploring, listening to Muse at two am (a welcome surprise) and lions.

“Why lions?” Dan asked, arranging the several stuffed animals around Phil’s room.

“I don’t really know. I’ve had a few pieces including them, and what small fan base I have has sent me some.”

Dan shrugged and continued unpacking Phil’s stuff, blushing and shoving away the box that contained his brightly coloured boxers.

Phil learned that Dan loved coffee ice cream, irregular sleep patterns (another thing they had in common), tumblr (they exchanged users and wasted about an hour trolling each other’s blogs) and anything black.

“Seriously Dan, do you own anything with colour?” Phil chuckled, pulling yet another box of black socks.

“No. I aim to reflect how I feel inside, void of colour, a black hole, depressed. A tortured artist.” Dan listed, flopping dramatically onto his bed. 

“Move over drama queen, Lion King coming through!” Phil roared as best he could, flopping on top of Dan and accidentally brushing against his neck.

Dan curled up into the fetal position under Phil, squealing.

“Stop Phil!! Stop!” Phil was confused for a few seconds before figuring out what triggered it.

“Time for you neck exam Danny!” Phil giggled, wriggling his fingers lightly against Dan’s sensitive neck, Dan continuing his spiel of threats.

Dan had just threatened to pull Phil’s ears off if he didn’t stop, and was reaching up to do so, when the doorbell rang.

They both stopped, Phil’s cheeks tinging pink as they walked through the house, Phil opening the door to an unfamiliar face.

Dan, however, smiled brightly and pulled the shorter man into a hug, exclaiming the man’s name.

“Chris! It’s so great to see you. You won’t believe what happened…” Dan trailed off, gesturing to Phil with a slight grimace.

Phil, however, was on it. 

“Chris! So nice to meet you. I’m Phil, Phil Lester, and I’m Dan’s roomie! We’ve already painted each other’s nails!” Phil mimicked the tones of a tween girl, drawing a grin from Dan and a laugh from Chris.

“Nice to meet you mate. As much as I’d love to give you all face masks, I have only come to complete a deed.”

Chris smirked and Dan winced at his expression.

“What is i- Oh. My. Stars. Is that a…”

Phil couldn’t finish the sentence for giggling at the sparkly pink book covered with stickers.

“I-it’s my… memories book.”

Phil smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

“It looks very… nice.”

Dan smiled weakly and moved the book behind his back.

“Now, who’s ready for peddies?!” Phil squealed.

“OH-EM-GEE, I TOTALLY FORGOT MY KIT!” Chris whined.

After several more minutes of laughs from the trio, another pair of footsteps sounded from outside. Phil knew only one person’s shoes that sounded like that.

“PJ!” Phil was bounding over Dan and out the door, tackle-hugging Peej to the ground, the pair smiling and laughing.

“Tea! Thanks, PJ. You’re the best.”

The pair embraced gleefully, Phil smelling the box of mixed favourites.

The four of them entered the house, Dan and Phil clamouring to be heard over the other as they toured the house, nudging each other out of the way to point at things. When the tour was over, PJ asked for a tea and Chris a coffee, the two friends of friends sat on Dan’s couch, half-facing each other, narrowing their eyes slightly.

“If Phil hurts Dan…”

“Or Dan hurts Phil…”

“Or you hurt Dan…”

“Or you hurt Phil…”

“There’s gonna be hell to pay.” they finished together, then broke into smiles.

“I haven’t seen Phil this happy in years.”

“Or Dan smiling so much.”

“We are  _ so _ the gossiping mums here.”

“Oh yeah.”

Chris and PJ were laughing at a joke Chris told by the time Dan and Phil called them to their beverages, after which they decided on a game of Twister, which Chris won.

It was then time for Chris and PJ to go, with promises of more game nights.

The rest of the evening was peaceful, neither of them hungry after several nibblies. They showered without issue and went to bed, looking forward to the promise of days to come.

~~~

A week or so later, at two am, Dan was writing. Of course, this was not your leisurely ‘oh I may as well’ writing, or even your ‘oh I have a deadline coming up better write’ writing. It was the ‘oh my godd I have seventeen hours to get three chapters to my editor’ kind of writing. Which was, to say the least, stressful, at worst, soul-shattering.

Dan’s eyes drooped as he backspaced a line, coffee cup abandoned on the floor hours ago. 

‘ _ Belle turned her head… gracefully? Lithely? Politely? Masterfully?’ _

Dan’s brain had left a long time ago, leaving mostly his stress and frustration.

“GOD FUCKING DAMMIT WHAT IS THE WORD?!”Dan yelled, slamming his fists on the desk in frustration and then pushing away, storming angrily past the upturned coffee cup to the kitchen.

~~~ 

Phil jolted awake from the loud noise, dream flooding back to him. That was it. He had found his muse.

He stumbled from bed, rubbing his eyes as he threw his stuffed animals away, finding his palette and paintbrushes where he left them. 

His eyes bleary and panicked, he scanned the room for a canvas, finding none. There was no time to spare, the bizarre dream was already fading from his memory. He moved the floor-length mirror aside and got to work, occasionally zoning out but then coming to with renewed vigour. Half an hour later the design was down and Phil went for a cup of tea, returning and sipping it whilst quietly admiring the piece. 

He sensed a presence and turned, rubbing his eyes at the figure at the door. Dan’s stray hairs circled his head like a halo, and the odd light and Phil’s own tired eyes combined to make it seem as if Dan had wings spreading out behind him. Phil stands, but his legs lock, sending him tumbling into the dresser. Dan smiles and grabs Phil under the arms, but Phil’s still slumping to the floor so he just scoops Phil up bridal-style, carrying him to the bed before setting him down. 

“I’m just going to turn off the light, Phil, okay?” Dan asks, using the voice he realises he uses only with Phil.

“Nooo, stay here… Don’t go.” Phil whines, and Dan can’t be sure but Phil’s eyes are shining with something that may be tears. 

Dan sighs and climbs into bed with Phil, facing his oceanic blue eyes (or were they pneumatic? Dan wasn’t sure). 

“Sorry for waking you Phil.”

Phil giggled, sleep-deprivation making him slightly loopy. “Have you seen the wall?”

Dan giggled along and settled down. “Come on, Phil, fall asleep.”

“Night, Danny.”

“Night, Philly.”

~~~

Several hours later and the birds awaken the pair, still curled up and bleary-eyed. 

“Uunnghhhhh…. Phil, what’s the time?”

“Eight.”

“Uuuughhh,” Dan rolls his face back into the pillow.

Phil smirks and pokes Dan’s neck, to which he squeals and wriggles away. 

“M’up, I’m up,” Dan slurs, rubbing his eyes and arching his back, light from the window streaming through onto Dan’s face, creased from the pillow.

“C’mon Dan, breakfast time. I’m starving!” Phil exclaims, dragging Dan by the hand to the kitchen.

They look around for a few minutes, before deciding they’d have to go out. 

“Oh, I know! There’s a pretty good cafe down the road a bit.” Phil said, slamming the cupboard shut.

“I also can’t _ believe _ you ate my cereal!”

“Oh come  _ on _ Dan, for the last time,  _ you shouldn’t leave your cereal out! _ ”

Dan threw up his hands and left, getting ready for their outing.

 

“DAN! DAN! Hurry up! Your hair isn’t  _ that _ curly.” Phil yelled through the door, pounding it again before pacing up and down the hall. Dan hurriedly finished his fringe and pushed through, grabbing his wallet and their house keys on the way through.

~~~

“Erm, Phil, you seem to have neglected to tell me that we, uh, have to go through someone’s garden to get here.”

“Look, if we go quick, then the owners won’t see us.”

“Alright, Phil…”

“Go!” Phil whisper-shouted, getting a head start with his slow, casual jog through the back yard. Dan shook his head, smirking at his antics, and followed.

They had nearly made it to the end of the garden when Phil kicked a flower pot, and then was not so stealthy in his random-curse spewing.

“Phil. Phil! PHIL!” Dan whisper-yelled, before giving up as Phil was still spewing random words and hopping about on one foot. Dan swept up Phil, bridal style once more and ran through the gate, before collapsing on the side of the road, panting.

“I’m beginning to realise that I pick you up like that way more than I should.”

The pair giggled in response, and then giggled some more as they peered over some rose bushes at the elderly man yowling about teens in his backyard. 

“Come on, Phil, before he finds us!” Dan pulls on Phil’s hand and they’re off.

~~~

Phil still feels the weight of Dan’s palm as they walk into the lemon-scented cafe. 

“So, what do you want?”

“The croissants are pretty good, but the lattes are not.”

“Noted.” Dan replies, browsing the chalkboard menus until he notices the waiting cashier. Dan nearly sprints to the front and orders eggs benedict, whilst Phil gets some waffles and a green tea.

Dan’s face falls as they follow the waitress to the table, and Phil can’t stand it.

“What’s wrong Dan? You look like you’ve just gone bankrupt!”

“Oh, nothing,” Phil just sends a concerned gaze to Dan and he crumbles.

“I don’t even  _ want _ eggs benedict, I just got them because they were the first thing I saw!”

“Don’t worry, I did the same thing. Trade you waffles for your eggs.”

“Sure. Thanks, Phil.”

“Anytime, Dan.”

~~~

Dan glances around self-consciously, but Phil puts his palm on top of Dan’s tapping fingers.

“It’s okay. You’re fine.”

And somehow, despite telling himself the same thing for the past half hour, it was.

At least, until, the comments came. 

“Wow, so, I take it you guys are new here?” ‘Deb’ said, leaning over to wipe some crumbs so that Dan could see down her shirt.

Dan was blushing too profusely to answer, but Phil caught the conversation.

“Erm, yeah. Yep. New guys on the block.”

“Huh. Well, since I ain’t seen either of you ‘fore, I’ll assume y’all are those new-age types. I don’t wanna see y’all again, ‘sepcially if you’re for all that… gay stuff.” Deb straightened up and took their half-empty plates, suddenly cold at the sight of their faces.

“See y’all ‘round… or not.” They watched with detached shock as Deb stopped and shared something with another blonde-haired girl, both of them glaring over at them. Dan’s eyes were wide as the plates they didn’t finish as they stared as Phil. 

“Let’s go.”

“Yup.”

~~~

“DAANN!”

“YEES?”

“WANNA GO EXPLORING?”

“No need to yell Phillip, I’m only in the next room.” Dan emerged from the kitchen into the living room where Phil was packing a backpack.

“Yeah, well, have you seen the forest? It’s practically  _ begging _ to be explored!”

“Ungh, fine, I probably need some exercise anyway.”

Phil broke out his thousand-watt grin and returned to packing (Why was Dan’s stomach doing a somersault?). 

“Hey Dan, can you grab another water bottle?” Dan shook his head but obliged, walking into the kitchen to hear a knocking at the door.

“Hello?” Dan asked, surprised to see the landlord standing at the door, whistling merrily. 

“Hello sonny. I’m just ‘ere to ask fer some cash fer the electikity. Prices, er, seem to be going up.”

“Oh, um, okay. Do you want cash or can I just do a bank transferr-”

“Oh! Er, cash’ll do just fine, lad.”

By that time Phil had become curious as to what was taking Dan so long and arrived at the door, peeking out near Dan’s shoulder.

“How much?”

Dan’s mood was swaying, rocking from hidden excitement to annoyance in an instance. He didn’t notice his fist was clenched, and tightly, until Phil tapped it softly and discreetly massaged the tension out of it.

“Er, just a couple hundred. About three, I s’pect.”

“Right. On it.” Phil tugged Dan away from the doorframe and went to his room, grabbing his wallet to find it empty of all cash. Phil checked all his jeans and jumpers pockets, under the bed, in all the drawers and behind paintings and in socks and came up with five pence and a stick of gum.

He turned to his closet once more, sighing resignedly as he leaned in, reaching behind all his clothes to the back corner, feeling around for the key he blue-tacked there the day he moved in.

After finding it, he was about to push off the wall when a voice appeared behind him.

“Phil, what are you  _ doing? _ ” 

Phil, startled, fell into the closet, legs ending up tangled in his variety of coloured t-shirts, face planted on a pile of heavy winter jumpers. Wriggling over, he showed Dan the key as means of a reply.

“Help me up! I think I’m stuck.”

Dan grabbed one of Phil’s hands and reefed him up. Dan underestimated his strength and went flying, dragging Phil and an arrangement of t-shirts onto Phil’s bed, all on top of him.

“Fffthhthmmth… Phthil! Get thif off me!”

Phil giggled, pulling the colourful mess of fabric off Dan’s face. Only after they were removed did Dan realise how close they were and how awkward their position was.

“Uh…” Phil grabbed his key from where it landed on the bed and removed himself, going to his chest of drawers and opening the top one, unlocking a keyhole there and opening the second drawer, all the while trying to calm the red flush on his cheeks. Dan thumped off the bed and scrambled into a sitting position, curious as to what Phil would keep under lock and key.

It was a glass jar, painted sloppily with puffy paint, the sky crystalline blue with puffy white clouds, grass green with a stick figure on it, painting a scribble on a canvas with a smile on its face. Phil sighed.

“Well, it’s been a good run while it’s lasted.” Phil opened the lid and emptied the jar, and out came bills, of all different amounts, tumbling onto the blue and green bedspread. 

“Wow. What’s this for?” Dan was tempted to count it, but left Phil to fiddle with the notes.

“It was meant to be for my first exhibition, or to get my art into a gallery, y’know, first big break, but yeah. I made that jar when I was ten, and haven’t taken more than a pound out at a time.”

“Phil….” Dan’s heart just about broke. “I’ll cover the extra. I’ve been saving up for something like this just in case. I’ve got it. You can just pay me back your share later.”

“Dan… you don’t have to do that.”

“No, Phil, I’ve got this.” Dan rose from the bed, about to fetch the money, when Phil pulled him into a hug with an ‘oof’ on Dan’s behalf.

“Thank you. I mean it.” Dan smiled and patted Phil on the head, pushing off the bed and heading down the hallway to his own room. Once inside with the door closed, he picked a wall and slid against it, burying his head in his hands. He didn’t have that much money either, but seeing Phil vulnerable and sad meant he had to do something, even if it meant taking some out of his own savings box. His lay simply on top of his wardrobe, and it wobbled as he grabbed it (He and Phil had crafted it. Stupid Walmart furniture and their impossible instructions). 

Sighing, he pocketed the cash and swung by Phil’s room, a fake grin being replaced by a genuine smile as he saw where Phil was- on the floor of his closet once more, both of them laughing as Dan helped him up. 

 

“Here.” Dan’s mood was swinging precariously around today.

“Thank ye. Bye, sons.” And he was off, Dan’s three hundred pounds weighing down his pocket. 

“Come on, I know exactly how to cheer us up. Mario Kart!”

~~~

Phil’s hands are hovering over the A button, pointer ready. He releases a ‘yess!’ as he hovers and clicks over Tanooki Mario, looking over triumphantly at Dan, who is scowling playfully with narrowed eyes. They had both remembered the screen before that they both liked the raccoon-suited Mario, and it had become a race to see who would end up with him.

Dan turns his face back to the screen, red pointer selecting his Mii. They both turn to each other when the course selection screen turns up.

“Wanna flip for it?” Phil asks, pulling a coin out of his pocket.

“Umm….” Phil returned from Dan’s half-apologetic smile to the split screen of Sweet Sweet Canyon, Dan’s Mii ready to start the race.

“D-Dan!” Phil yelled, taking the time to elbow him before starting, Dan already ahead by using the boost. The first corner presented no issues for either, Dan picking up a bullet bill and Phil a green shell.

Phil navigated his way to fourth, Dan in his sights. This was Phil’s specialty, making the green turtles ricochet into his opponents. Waiting until the right moment, he let the shell fly, bouncing off a barrier and into Dan who spun out of control, Phil letting out a victorious laugh as he overtook him.

Now it was Dan’s turn. He turned into the unstoppable bullet just two turns before the final stretch of the first lap, knocking Phil out of the way with a whoop.

And so it continued, Dan and Phil ignoring the NPCs and aiming instead for each other, chomper plants and bloopers galore.

~~~

“WE WILL BEE VICTOOOORIOUUUSSS!” Dan sang, jumping up on the couch and pretending the Wiimote was a microphone and he was Matt Bellamy. He opened his eyes a sliver to see Phil with crossed arms and playfully pouting.

“Aw, come on Phil. Best of three?”

He got a ‘hmph’ in response, but the dirt bike track start was on the screen before Dan could settle down, and thus played the entire game standing on the brown sofa. 

It was another victory for Dan, who chose the final track as Animal Crossing. Dan was switching between second and first the entire way, but came a narrow second to Phil’s lucky bullet bill.

“NOO!! Phil!!” Dan screeched, throwing his Wiimote onto the sofa and tackling Phil, who giggled and shoved Dan off him.

“Ha! I win!”

“Um, no you don’t! Get off your high horse! I won two, therefore, winner of the best of three.”

Phil laughed and collapsed into the couch. 

“So now what do we do?”

“Since you asked, as winner of the Mario Kart Eight Household Championship, I would like some ginger and lemon tea and some Maltesers.

“Ugh. Fine. But only because I like you.” Phil pushed off and moved into the kitchen, fetching Dan’s meal with a speed only found with complete comfort in an area (why had Phil said that? What was going through Dan’s head? Was he the only one analysing it? Was he over-analysing it?). 

Phil returned, carrying their two teas (Phil had green tea, which reminded him of Peej) and the Maltesers on a fancy glass plate he didn’t really know they owned.

“There you go, your  _ Highness _ .” Phil said, placing the plate and taking his tea, collapsing back into the sofa.

“ _ Now  _ what?”

~~~

“Ugh, I’m so  _ tired!”  _ Dan exclaims, flopping over Phil’s lap with a groan. It had been only ten minutes and already the entire plate of Maltesers and half of his tea was gone.

“ _ And _ I have work tomorrow. When did life become so  _ hard _ ?” he whines, dropping his Wiimote into the box beside the couch and holding his hand out for Phil’s (Wiimote, that is. If only had Dan had the courage to ask for Phil’s hand. They normally just grab each other’s anyway and forget to let go. Does all hand holding feel this natural?).

“Well, at least your paycheck comes soon. Then we can head back to the café.” Phil says, attempting to nudge Dan off him.

“But  _ work _ !”

“But  _ money _ !”

“Well, tomorrow the world ends and you have to work, so let’s make the most of now. What movie do you wanna watch?”

“Hmm… what are the options?”

Phil edges out from underneath Dan, kneeling in front of the movie cabinet.

“It’s a cartoony kind of night. We have Big Hero Six, Aladdin, Toy Story One, Two and Three and Tom and Jerry- The Movie.”

“Well, I don’t feel like romance, so Aladdin’s out, don’t feel like Woody and Buzz and Tom and Jerry, so Big Hero Six it is!”

“Took you long enough.” Phil muttered under his breath, putting in the disc and returning to the couch, Dan lounging luxuriously, somehow managing to take up the whole lounge.

“What did you say, Philly?”

“That you take too long to make decisions.”

“Huh, funny that. I think I’ve decided pretty quickly where you’re sitting for the duration of this.” Dan replies, adjusting his limbs slightly as to leave no room for Phil.

“ _ Daaann _ !” Phil whines, attempting to shove his legs of the couch, but to no avail (Why did Dan’s stomach do that thing whenever Phil touched him?).

“Uh-uh, not until you apologise.”

“Well, I suppose I’m sitting on the floor. But you’re gonna be the one missing out.” And with that, Phil snatches the remote from Dan’s loose grip and rips the blanket out from under him and leaves the room.

While out, Phil grabs every blanket, sheet and quilt he can find, and somehow manages to turn down the thermostat to the lowest it can go, opening a few windows on the way back.

He returns to the lounge room fully equipped, and while the movie is on the start screen he sets up, remote firmly in hand.

“Hurry  _ up _ , Phil!”

Phil just smiles, safe in the knowledge he was going to be the most comfortable one tonight. He plays the movie, snuggling into his cocoon of warmth.

It was only ten minutes into the movie when Dan interrupts. “Hey, Ph-Phil, do you mind lending me one of your blankets?” Phil pauses the movie and turns around as best as possible, seeing Dan curled up on the couch.

“I’ve decided… no. Sorry!” Phil plays the movie again, smirking once more at his brilliant plan.

It was halfway through when Dan tried again.

“Phil, I think you’ve left a window open. Surely you don’t need  _ all _ those blankets?”

“Mmmm… yes, I do. Shut up and enjoy the movie Daniel.”

Dan shivered, curled into the fetal position. “B-but Phil…!”

“No buts. You have made the great decision of taking the couch, and you must stick with it.”

Dan whined, and continued whining throughout the remaining parts about the various states of his extremities.

“Phil, my t-toes are cold. My shins are c-cold. My thighs are cold. My d-“

“ _ Alright _ , Dan! I get the idea!” Phil paused the movie and swivelled around.

“Have you learnt your lesson?”

“Y-y-yes!”

“Right then, let me just-“

“Say no more!” Dan had rolled onto the floor, and was picking up the various sheets Phil had abandoned when Phil opened his cocoon.

“Those sheets aren’t warm at all, trust me. C’mere, Dan.”

Dan wriggled over and snuggled in, Phil closing up the cocoon and adjusting as best he could.

“Better?”

“Better.”

~~~

“Unhh… we really need to stop waking up like this.” Dan groans, moving away and rubbing his eyes. 

“I find it quite nice!” Phil defends, arching his back and wincing at the cracking.

“Here, let me.” Dan slides smoothly in behind Phil, and starts moving his hands over Phil’s back, kneading out the knots.

“Muuhh…” Phil feels his back turn to putty as Dan gets rid of all the tension.

“Remind me to tell you when I need a massage.”

“Okay.”

~~~

“Alright Dan. We’re fresh out of cereal, nearly out of toilet paper, there’s not much tea and I haven’t seen neither head nor hind of anything healthy in about four days. We need to go shopping.” Phil said, slamming the fridge shut and turning to face Dan, who’s hunched over the bench.

“Agreed. I’ll add it in between writing and… more writing. The next time I’m free- eighteen years away.”

“Nope! Not today Dan. Get up and grab your wallet.”

“Wha-” Phil grabs Dan by the upper arm and pulls him away from his phone, glimpsing the muted colours of Temple Run 3.

“We’re going shopping.”

~~~

Dan wheeled the trolley from the bay, leaning on the handle as Phil got out his shopping list (how did Dan manage to make leaning on a  _ shopping cart _ look hot?).

“Aren’t I the writer in this pair?” 

“Well, considering you would have been quite happy eating Maltesers and tuna for the next three months if it meant not shopping, I think I’m the writer here. Now, off to the cereal aisle!”

Dan pulled himself up, leaning only slightly on his wrists as he navigated through the crowds, easily finding Phil due to both of their heights.

“Why, Phil, did we have to come at nine on a Saturday, when  _ literally everyone else  _ is? Can’t we continue to be different in this section of our lives too?”

“Nope! Now, I was thinking Weeties again, unless you want fruit loops?”

“Uh… How about we get cornflakes instead.” Dan says, shooting a meaningful glance at the prices.

“Oh. Right. Yeah. Okay!”

“Tea next!” Phil says, navigating swiftly through the crowds

“You have no aisle organisation on that list, do you?”

“Nope! We need the exercise. Come on, Danny!”

Dan just huffed and tried not to bump into anyone.

 

“Alright, final thing is some pens. I’ve noticed the couple strewn about your floor, and heard about them, so let’s go grab some.”

“Okay, just…. Okay then.” Dan says, breathing heavily and plodding after his still-energetic companion.

“Right, pick some.” Phil says, gesturing to the stationary selection. 

Dan lets out a ‘hm’ and walks forward, touching a couple of the packets before shaking his head lightly. He then moves to the cheap ten pack and grabs it, aiming them like a basketball for the trolley but overshooting.

They watch in mute horror as the pens slide under the magazine holder, disappearing.

“Well, I’m sure they were all duds anyway.” Phil says nervously, grabbing another set and Dan’s hand, powering out the aisle to the checkouts.

“Hi, how are you today?”

“Good, and you?” Phil replies to the cashier, smiling brightly. Dan stands behind him, trying to echo Phil’s megawatt grin and failing, instead settling for a friendly half-smile.

“Good, yeah.” The cashier’s hands are flying impossibly fast and she’s smiling at them too, bagging their goods masterfully.

“That’s good.”

“Anything else today?”

Phil jumps slightly. 

“Oh! Yeah, sorry, Dan, can you go grab a packet of cough lollies.”

“Uh… yeah?”

Dan jogs off, and Phil smiles apologetically.

“Anything else?” She smiles sweetly, handing them the extra packet.

“Y-yes! Grab some mints Dan!”

Dan raises one eyebrow and grabs them from the shelves at the end.

“Anythin-”

“Coke!”

“Actually, I think we’re good. Thank you!” Dan says, smiling and grabbing the receipt quickly, power-walking out of the shop.

“Ph-Phil! What were you  _ doing? _ Buying all this extra…” Dan quiets down as he sees a mother and child staring.

“Stuff?” Phil offers, and Dan sends him a glare. 

“Come on, just grab the bags and let’s get going before you buy another store.” Dan huffs, grabbing bags roughly out of the trolley.

“I’m sorry, Dan. I didn’t think.”

“No! Obviously you didn’t! Artists are all the same, head in the clouds and needing someone else to pull them down.”

Phil looked at Dan, hurt shining in his eyes.

“.... So now I know how you feel.” Phil says quietly.

“Phil… I’m sorry. You know how worried I am about money… I haven’t slept… well… in a while.”

“I have an idea.”

“Phil, I’m all ears.”

“We need to get a job, one that doesn’t cost half an arm to travel to.”

Dan gulps nervously, but nods all the same.

~~~

“Hi, Daniel, nice to meet you. I’m Bob Roberts, manager here at Tea Spooning. Take a seat.”

Dan smiles and shakes Bob’s hand, seating himself as instructed, tucking his legs in as to not hit Bob’s under the desk (Dan knows there’s nothing worse than accidental footsies with your potential boss).

“N-nice to meet you Bob. You can just call me Dan… I mean, if you want.” Dan takes a deep breath and smiles again, trying to imagine Bob as Phil.

“Okay, Dan. Now, it says here that you are an aspiring author. Is that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So… why do you need a job here?”

“Umm… The problem is that I’m not that popular as an author. Plus I’m only half-finished my second book. I need this job so I can fund my book and lift it off the ground, and hopefully keep doing what I love,” Dan replies, slumping slightly at the prospect of writing the other half of his novel.

“Well, I hope you can fund your book, but between you and me, that Phil guy outside is also a likely candidate.”

It took Dan a few moments to register what Bob had said, but when he did, he laughed aloud to Bob’s confusion.

“Well, just between you and me, Phil is my flat buddy- I mean flatmate. We both need this job to pay the rent, plus I’m sure you’ve heard his artist story, so we’re probably gonna share the money anyways.”

It was Bob’s turn to laugh.

“Well then, let’s get this over with so you guys can start your shifts. How much experience have you had in either hospitality or cooking?”

Dan rubbed the back of his neck, letting out an awkward laugh.

“Well…”

~~~

“Guess what?!” Dan calls out the shop door, walking outside to where Phil was leaning against the lamppost.

“Did you get the job?” Phil asks, face bright with the possibility.

“Not yet,” Phil’s face fell and Dan knew he had to lift his spirit again, somehow.

“But…. I explained to him our living situation, briefly, and he seemed pretty lenient.”

Phil rushed over to hug Dan. but a voice from inside the shop stopped him.

“Dan, Phil...” Bob called, face solemn.

“Yes, sir?” They both answered, turning to face the employer.

“...Come and get your aprons boys! You’re in!”

Phil lets out a ‘yess!’ and punches the air. Dan hugs Phil, nearly knocking them both over with the force. 

“We don’t… we don’t have to give up…” Dan whispered shakily, gripping Phil’s waist tight.

“I know,” Phil said, smile small but filled with more emotion than Dan had ever seen before.

“Bob’s looking at us funny, we better stop.”

“Okay.” Phil said, but lingering for a few extra seconds before pulling away slightly, arms still resting on Dan’s shoulders.

“One more thing- I know about your stash. It’s time for us to get it back.”

Dan’s smile was watery as he looked at Phil, shaking his head slightly. The smile strengthened when he turned to face their new boss, letting Phil’s hands drop.

“What are you blokes waiting for? In you get!”

They stole one more excited glance before falling into step, into the shop.

~~~

“Well, that was a… wet and rather wild ride,” Dan said, leaning over the counter as Phil turned the sign on the door from ‘open’ to ‘closed’.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect to get drenched in coffee… or learn so much in one shift,” Phil replied, pulling at his apron that’s already covered in brown stains. Dan passes the mop over the counter to Phil, Phil catching it just before it hits his eyes.

“Hang on a minute, Phil,”

Phil cocks his head and pauses his mopping.

“Think about it. His name is Bob Roberts, and what is Bob short for? Robert. His name is literally Robert Roberts,” Dan tries to keep a straight face, but by the end of his spiel he can’t hold it in.

“Robert- Roberts!”

Phil starts laughing, hard, leaning on the broom for support (Dan’s stomach is struck by lightning).

“C-can you imagine the roll call at school? Roberts, Robert. Wait, what? Robert…” Phil mimics an annoying lady’s voice, making Dan laugh harder.

“And the cafe name? Tea Spooning?!” This makes them crack up all over again.

“What’s so funny?” The pair freeze, turning hesitantly to where the voice came from.

“Oh! Louise, it’s just you. Thank the lord,” Dan exclaims, hand over his heart.

“Have you noticed something about Bob’s name?” Phil asks, both of them pausing with amused expressions as they wait for Louise, a fellow employee, to figure it out.

“Bob… Roberts. Bob… Bobs. Bob Bobs!?” Louise laughs long and loud, snorting occasionally which sets Dan and Phil off again.

“Okay guys, we need to- we need to clean up before- Bob Bobs comes back!” Louise snorts, laughing for several minutes before finally stopping.

“Seriously though. Phil, you wipe the counter. I’ll mop because I’m probably quicker,” Dan suggests, jumping over the counter.

“Oh really? Louise, do me a favour and wipe the bench? I need to sort this- him- out.”

“You’re on, Lester.”

 

It took half an hour and a lot of sore butts, but the floor was clean as a whistle. 

“Louise! Who won?” They both turned to the blonde, who looked up, a blank look on her face.

“I was meant to be watching?”

~~~

Dan smiled politely at the customer, inhaling sharply.

“H-hi, what can I g-get for you today?” His voice was shaky and his palms had begun to slicken with sweat.

“Oh, I’d just like a chai, a double-mocha…” Her voice faded out of Dan’s ears as he gripped the counter tightly, feeling his whole body throb and the ground quaver, smile still plastered on his face.

“Hello?! Are you even listening?” the grating voice drew Phil’s attention away from the coffee machine, watching with horror as Dan’s face paled and his knees quivered.

“Hi! Sorry about this. So was that a chai…?” Phil slid over, nudging Louise with his foot and drawing her attention to their co-worker.

‘Can you take this?’ Phil mouthed, Louise nodding resolutely and sliding over beside them. Phil grabbed Dan around the waist and slung one arm over his shoulder, beginning to pull him. Dan was flushed white, his eyes were half-lidded and he slumped like a ragdoll in Phil’s grasp. Phil finally pulled Dan to a back office, easing him into a chair.

“Dan!”

Phil’s voice pulled Dan out of his state and partially back into reality.

“Wh-wha?” Dan’s eyes widened and he gripped the arms of the chair tightly, blood already rushing out of his face again.

“Dan! Calm down. Okay? Breathe with me.” Phil put his hand over Dan’s, and moved their overlapping hands to his chest.

“Look into my eyes and breathe with me. In for seven, hold for four, out for eight, got it?”

Dan moved his head slightly, but stared steadily into Phil’s eyes as they breathed together.

After a few minutes, Phil stopped breathing so deeply.

“Dan, find five things you can touch, four things you can see, three things you can hear, two things you can smell and one thing you can taste.”

Phil watched closely as Dan’s eyes darted around, at first quick but a squeeze on his hand from Phil slowed him.

“You alright?” Phil asked after Dan finished.

“Yeah, thanks to you.”

“Right. I’ll take the counter, and you can man the machine, and we can talk more later.”

“Thanks, Phil.” Dan looked meaningfully into Phil’s eyes, and they embraced quickly before stepping outside, filling in their positions.

“Thanks, Lou,” Phil said, smiling fondly at Louise who moved back to waitressing. How she had manned the coffee machine, the counter and waitressing was a mystery to Phil, but he let it go and smiled at the next customer in line.

“Hi, what can I get for you today?”

~~~

Dan turned the sign over and went to get the broom, but Louise stopped him.

“Nuh-uh.  _ You’re _ going home and getting some rest. Louise’s orders. Phil, go with him and make sure he sleeps. Now come over here for hugs.”

Dan moved over and whispered his thanks in Louise’s ear. Phil, however, got passed a small packet, which he pocketed it and winked.

“Thanks again Louise. We’ll take you out sometime to make up for it, promise.”

“Alrighty. See you ‘round!”

They both waved goodbye and started the walk home. Luckily, after a bit of exploration they discovered that there was an alternate route to the café that didn’t involve trespassing, however, it was a lot longer and Phil knew Dan was exhausted.

“Come on, let’s go this way.” Phil says, using a voice he only used with Dan. Dan was following along like a tired child, stumbling over his feet with eyes half-lidded.

Phil sighed.

“Come on Dan, I’ll piggyback you.”

Dan was in no state to reject the offer, so he stumbled over and climbed on, holding on softly around Phil’s neck.

“So, Dan, what’s happ- Okay. Night, Dan,” Phil whispered, hearing the soft snoring of his friend on his back.

It took a few minutes, but Phil eventually got Dan back to their flat and unlocked the door, but now had the awkward issue of trying to put Dan on a bed somewhere. He walked into Dan’s room, and sat down on the bed, trying to gently pry Dan off to no avail. Instead, he lay down, Dan now cuddling his back.

‘Just a few minutes…’ Phil thought, snuggling into Dan. 

‘Just a few…’

~~~

Phil strolled down the street, wind reaching him through his sweater. He needed to get Dan some more yoghurt and Phil needed more cereal, so they had a Mario Kart to decide who would go (Dan won. As per usual. He really needed a better way of doing things).

Phil was about to turn into Tesco when he heard a whine. Phil cocked his head curiously at the quiet whining noise. Forgetting entirely about the groceries, he crept around the side of the store, stepping softly and moving his head side to side, trying to locate where the noise was coming from.

He sourced it to a lump of slightly decomposed cardboard boxes, and as he neared the sound doubled in strength.

“Hey, hey,” Phil cooed, bending down and rooting through the pile, feeling for anything aside from damp cardboard. After a few minutes, Phil’s hand touched something weirdly warm and furry, and his face lifted.

“C’mere, little- wait, hold on, big guy,” Phil moved his hands around some more, finding he needed to move further in and use his arms to fully encompass the creature. He gripped the furry lump and gently removed it from its prison, smiling widely at what lay in his arms. It was a dog, fully grown and muddy, tail wagging and tongue flopping.

“Aww! A doggo!” Phil exclaimed, hugging it close to his face but then spitting the fur out, laughing and patting it all the while.

“Aww, you’re cold! You stay here and I’ll get a blanket, okay?”

The dog, miraculously, had seemed to have understood Phil, as it sat there while Phil jogged away. The doors to Tesco opened and Phil stood with his legs shoulder-width apart in the entrance, the front of his shirt and jacket wet and dirty. A few customers turned to look and Phil’s cheeks turned rufescent.

Phil power-walked through the aisles, picking up an assortment of brushes, food, kibble, and toys. On a whim he collected a fluffy blanket on special, and as an afterthought he grabbed the cereal (Lucky Charms) and the yogurt Dan requested.

He sped through the checkout, not bothering to respond to the attendant as his mind was already outside, comforting the dog.

After nearly forgetting two bags and change, Phil bolted outside, skidding and rifling through the bags. The dog whined, and Phil pulled out the blanket. He stroked the dog, and lifted it slightly to wrap the blanket around it. He got out his phone and clamped it between his ear and shoulder, and hefted the dog and shopping bags and began to walk.

“Dan!”

“What?”

“I found a dog beside Tesco, and I’ve picked it up and am heading to the vet. Meet me there! See ya.”

“Wait wha-!”

Phil ended the call before Dan could get any more words in. The weather had turned from mildly windy to a gale, and raindrops were starting to fall.

“Hold on, little guy,” Phil murmured, hurrying along with hunched shoulders through the grey streets of Framlingham.

 

The vet was heated, and Phil felt the tension slip out of his shoulders as he put the bundle down on a seat, and moved over to the counter. 

“What’s up, pup?” The receptionist asked, smiling coyly. Phil, however, was unable to see through the girl’s pretence, and smiled back.

“A bit, kit. I found this dog,” Phil gestured behind him to the baby-blue blanket, from which a small dog’s head peeped through, panting cheerily.

“Okay, blue jay. Just fill this out over there and let me know when you’re done.”

“Sure thing- er- ming?” They both giggled, and were continuing to do so when the doorbell tinkled. Phil turned to face the noise, and his face melted, smile loosening and eyes closing in relief. Dan.

Phil walked over to him, grabbing his arm and dragging him to the counter.

“Dan, this is… I’m sorry, I never got your name.”

“Lamia. A pleasure to meet you.” She smiled and offered her hand, but her eyes were dull and almost accusing. Dan retracted his hand from hers as soon as possible, but not before she dug a nail into his palm (Dan could swear she had seen her face before. He couldn’t put a finger on it).

Phil gave one more smile- a rare, shy one, normally only given to Dan- and walked over to where the dog was sitting, pulling a pen out of Dan’s jeans.

“How do you- I’m not gonna bother. Where’s this dog you’ve described?” Dan’s tone was bland, but his leg bounced and his eyes were alight, searching the room for the canine (how did Dan manage to make everything look so easy?).

“Dan, it’s just here.” Dan’s eyes were pinned to the blanket as Phil moved the dog onto his lap, and then transferred it to Dan’s. Bright brown eyes lock together, and for a moment all that Phil can see is Dan and the dog, lying together on their couch in their apartment, the window letting in light and glinting off something.

The vision is gone but the poses are the same, Dan has the dog in a hug and it's licking his face. Dan’s laughing and Lamia is glaring and Phil gets a deja vu. Two stops in the period of a minute is no good sign for Phil. He clenches his toes tight, a grounding method, and quickly counts the number of non-letters and numbers on the page (it’s 27).

It’s a few minutes later when Phil rises and hands his form over the counter to Lamia, who’s back to smiling.

“So, are you and… Dan… in a…?” She leaves the question dangling in the air like a lure.

“No! Of course not. We share a flat, and Dan really loves dogs, so I’d thought he’d like to see one.”

“Oh, okay, blue jay. I’ll just hand this to the doc, you can just go back and wait if you want.”

Phil doesn’t hear the invitation to stay in her words and goes back to Dan. Dan leans over the dog, still scratching its ears, and turns his face slightly to Phil.

“I don’t like her. Not a bit.”

“BUt don’t you love the-”

“Not that, you spoon. Lamia.” Dan whispers her name and lets his eyes slide over to where she’s re-entering the room.

“Really? I think she’s charismatic.”

Dan turns his gaze from the receptionist to his flatmate, eyes widened and mouth slightly open. Phil’s still looking at Lamia.

“Phil!” Dan whisper-shouts, and an old couple with an even older-seeming dog look over at them, but smile knowingly and turn away.

“What?”

“She  _ hurt _ me when we shook hands. She has the devil in her, Phil.”

“Yeah, okay, Dan…” Phil’s attention is already back on Lamia, who’s smiling shyly and fiddling with a strand of hair. Dan nearly gags, but is saved from any more flirting by the doctor peeking out the door.

“Phil Lester?”

Phil jumps. “That’s me!” He goes to grab the dog but Dan’s already walking away, and Phil spares Lamia one last look before entering the examining room.

“So, what can I do for you?”

~~~

Phil walks out of the examination room, smile on his face.

“Well, thank you Dr. Jeffries. We appreciate this.”

“No problem, gentlemen. Now, I have to ask something. Would you be willing to adopt this dog? I need to know so that you can pay accordingly.”

“Just give us a minute, sir.” Phil pulls Dan by the elbow behind a houseplant.

“What are you thinking?”

“Still in what-the-fuck mode. You go.” Dan says, cradling the dog like a baby.

Phil is reminded of the same interaction just a few months ago, just after the first time they’d met. How long ago that seemed now. He exhales, expelling the first image he has of Dan, their first interaction.

“I just… I don’t know, Dan. We’re already nearly broke as-is. I’m… I’m not sure we can spare the money for her.” 

Dan pulls the dog close. “I know, Phil. I just… She’s alone. Jeffries says there’s signs of abuse. Did you see how wary she got around him? She trusts us Phil. She trusts  _ me _ .” Dan’s eyes are glassy and he’s breathing heavily.

“Dan…” Phil can’t continue. The look in Dan’s eyes as he looks at the canine is so infatuated, so complete and sorrowful and horrid that Phil can’t stand to take that away. To take something like that, that feeling of completeness… Phil would have to give up his feelings, sell his soul so he couldn’t feel the guilt. 

“Well, to be fair I have a bit of art stashed away, most ready for selling, and you’re close to finishing the novel, yeah?” Dan nods, wiping his eyes on his shoulder.

“Plus, we do have like a  _ lot _ of furniture we can sell, and Bob’s training phase is nearly done, so…”

Dan’s face lifts and his smile is the brightest thing in the room.

“You really think…” Phil laughs softly.

“Yes.”

“So, dog-parents?”

“I always thought it was owners, but sure, dog-parents all the same.”

Phil smiles again at the nostalgic moment, but catches up to Dan.

 

Dan has at least seven brochures and a lot more bags, but he turns to face Phil, leash in hand.

“You ready?”

“Heh. As I’ll ever be.”

“Bye, Phil!” Lamia calls, glaring daggers into the back of Dan’s head. She’s lost Phil to him.

Phil doesn’t let go of Dan’s hand all the way home.

~~~

“So. Names.”

Phil puts down the brochure about fleas and turns to face Dan.

“Names.” He echoes, flopping down on the couch, Dan following suit.

“She’s a girl. That narrows it down.” Phil says, but Dan laughs (it sends a jolt through Phil. He dismisses it as lack of food. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast this morning. It’s four in the afternoon).

“Phil, Phil, Phil. Have you forgotten who I am? I’m a  _ writer _ ,” Dan gets up, almost sensing Phil’s hunger. Phil figures it may actually be because his stomach’s rumbling, fairly loud.

“And what do writers need to write? Characters. And how do you identify characters? Names. Philly, I have, over my time, compiled a list of meaningful names,” Dan gets the yoghurt out of the fridge and spoons some out into two mismatched bowls. 

“I’ll go grab my laptop, you can eat some of my cereal while I’m gone. Don’t tell the dog.”

Phil grabs a teaspoon and sits on the bench, swinging his legs thoughtfully. Since when did Phil get little electric shocks through his stomach? Why didn’t he let go of Dan’s hand? Why, all of a sudden, are the little touches they share feel… different? Charged? What happened? What changed? Was it him? Was it Dan? 

All these questions were whipping through Phil like leaves, but two stand in the eye of the storm.

Why?

And

What happens now?

 

Dan breaks Phil out of his reverie by stumbling over his own feet. Phil’s laughter bubbles out of his lips, and he slides his bowl away and hops off the counter, moving over to Dan, touching his arm (small things. Little jolts).

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just me being me.”

“Come on, you being you.”

They sit down on the couch, but not before Phil grabs some Lucky Charms, crisps and a slice of bread.

“Alright, so are we going by the sound of the name and then checking the meaning, or vice versa?”

“Whatever. Let’s just go. Here, girl!” Phil says the last part to the dog, who runs over and leaps onto the couch, settling her head on Dan’s lap.

“Can you hold the laptop? I don’t want to hurt her.” The fondness in Dan’s eyes is enough to make Phil’s stomach twinge. 

~~~

It’s an hour later and they’ve narrowed it down to about twenty. Dan watches Phil scroll and he strokes the dog- their dog.

Dan’s feeling it too, the little ‘oh’ moments, the realisation, the revelation. The questions. He felt it when he was in the vet, watching Phil with Lamia (Dan, however, is safe with the knowledge that he knows what Lamia’s name means).

(It variably means large shark, fiend and vampire).

(But that still doesn’t make him feel safe).

“Alright. Here’s the ones to consider.” Phil turns the laptop to Dan, and Dan holds his eyes too long on Phil’s before flicking to the screen. 

Dan nods at some, but leans over and backspaces others. Phil tilts his head over to look, but his fringe flops on the screen and Dan can’t see.

“Phil!” Dan laughs and moves Phil’s fringe.

“So, we’re left with the final two- Amarante and Mitsuko. Unfading and Light Child.”

They both look to the dog lying on Dan.

“What do you think girl? Amarante or Mitsuko?” Phil asks, and the dog just seems content with letting her tongue loll out as an answer. Dan takes the time to look at her, properly.

She has caramel brown fur. When Dan first saw her, he thought she looked like a muddled-up german shepherd; she had the right colours, but none of the right patterns. She has a base coat of the caramel, but the black looks like someone let her loose in a coal mine. The top of her head and shoulders are speckled black, and this follows down her spine. Her nose, top of her tail and front left paw are all black entirely. She has brown eyes. But not just the plain brown eyes. Her eyes have a look of thick honey, the brown that if you look too close makes you shiver with the intensity. Dan’s noticed a slight limp, but she’s their dog and they belong to her. They all belong to each other.

Dan pats her head.

“I s’pose we can’t Mario Kart this out, huh?”

“Nope. No more ‘Mario Karting thing out’. It’s just a way to get your way.”

“What are you thinking?” Dan, too, is hit with nostalgia at certain words or phrases.

“I’m leaning toward Mitsuko. But I love Amarante too.”

“Same. But, Mitsuko… she suits it. How about Mitsuko as her first name. Mitsuko Amarante Howell-Lester.”

“Lester-Howell?”

“I think we both know what sounds better.”

“Fine. Mitsuko Amarante Howell-Lester it is.”

Phil’s smile is like a spark. Heck, Phil is a spark. Dan sometimes doesn’t notice when it’s on, focused on brighter things. But he’s still there, still supporting. When the light goes off, Phil shines brighter than the sun, not scared by the dark like Dan is. Phil is that comfort, that always there, that unfading light. Dan’s starting to like the dark, now. It means he can focus on his spark a little more, he knows it’s there, he can feel it’s warmth.

Dan had to.

“Phil, I-”

Dan’s mood is still swinging as they hear a knock on the door. Phil tears his attention away from Dan, and the brighter lights turn on again. Dan misses the dark already. 

Phil’s head turns back to Dan and the look on his face reminds him of something he’d rather not remember.

“The dog,” They both utter, eyes wide and their breaths hitched. Dan gently moves Mitsuko’s head off his lap.

They both move to the door, Dan muttering something in an undertone as Phil opens the door.

“Hey, lads. Sorry I’m ‘ere again, y’know how it is.” Dan’s still muttering and Phil’s attention is divided.

“Hot water this time. Two ‘undred.” Phil’s eyes widen and Dan stops murmuring.

“I’ve got it.” Dan says. He sounds smooth, but inside he’s screaming and shouting and it’s all going down in flames.

Dan moves to his room, reefing open a drawer and shoving his boxers aside.

“Dan!” Phil hisses, and Dan’s stomach drops.

“Calm down, okay? It’s all alright.” Phil rests a hand on his back and the tension is released, like ripples of calm from Phil’s contact. Dan inhales slowly, exhales, and grabs the two hundred.

Phil only has to look at Dan as he turns around to ask.

“Figured he was gonna do it again, so I kept some aside.”

“Good thinking.”

“Yeah,” Dan crumples the bill in his hand and walks out.

“Here,” Dan holds out his hand and upturns it, watching the bills fall with an internal wince. He inhales sharply as he feels a pressure on the small of his back, and somehow he knows that it’s not Mitsuko.

Dan’s about to shut the door but Phil begins talking.

“Um, sir, there’s just a small thing. Well, we…” Phil’s trying to soften the blow, but Dan’s had it.

“We’ve got a dog.” Dan finishes bluntly, earning a look from Phil.

“Alrighty. Clean up it’s shit and you’re all good. See you fellas later.”

It takes a hell of a lot out of Dan to wait until he can’t hear the landlord’s footsteps before he starts ranting.

Even Mitsuko’s scared at Dan’s money-driven rant.

~~~

“So. Dan. What happened the other day at work?” The pair were sitting on the couch, legs entwined, dog lying on the floor, snoring contentedly.

“I really don’t know. It could’ve been anything from a panic attack to… I dunno, sleep deprivation.”

Dan tried to sound nonchalant about it, but Phil was still listening, even though Phil’s old Buffy DVDs were on.

“Sleep depri- Dan. How late have you been going to bed? Be honest.”

“Umm… maybe around, oh, I dunno, four? Five?”

“Oh, that’s not late at- wait. AM?!”

“Maybe?” Dan had the decency to look sheepish.

“Daniel James Howell! Four am is  _ not _ an acceptable bedtime. No wonder you complain so much about no muse and tiredness.”

“Well, if we’re being honest here…”

“Go on…” Phil was sitting bolt upright with his eyes narrowed and arms crossed.

“I haven’t really been, erm, sleeping, properly, really for, uh, a while.”

Phil just tapped a finger, eyebrow raised.

“For, uh, about a week?” Dan winced, knowing what was coming.

“DAN! OH MY FLIPPING DUCKS! You can’t just  _ not sleep _ for ‘like, a week’. You need sleep, Dan! Come on, you’re better than this. I don’t flipping  _ care _ if your book’s due in two days, you need to sleep! I’m disappointed, Dan. You should have told me earlier.”

“I  _ know _ , and I’m  _ sorry, _ but there’s not enough hours in the day to eat and work and hang out with you and write and sleep and walk the dog. I can’t keep juggling all of these, and I don’t have enough time to make a schedule.”

“Dan… I’m sorry. I can step back, I’ll ask for separate shifts and cover yours, and instead of hanging you can write. I’ll make dinner, walk Mitsuko, and that only leaves sleeping and writing.”

“Phil, you can’t do that. I can handle. I realise now that I need sleep, because I think my body short-circuited, like my vision went black at the edges. I can’t really remember much except you… piggybacking me?”

“Uh, there was no better option.”

Dan smiled and put his hand on Phil’s calf.

“Thank you. I mean it. Now, I’m off to bed, don’t wake me unless it’s an emergency, pizza or work. Night.”

“Night, Danny.” Phil gripped Dan’s hand, gave it a squeeze and dropped it as he walked past.

Phil fell asleep with a smile that night.

~~~

It was three weeks later when Phil decided that they finally needed to go exploring.

“Daaaannn… Daaaaaaaaaaannnnn…. It’s time to get uuuuppp…”

“Mfgthft.. Phiw, it’s really nooot. Go back too beeedd… It’s like six aaaammmm…”

Phil made a rather loud buzzer noise. “Five thirty. We’re going exploring.”

“Don’t wannaaa…”

“Yes you do. I’ve got bags packed. I’m not taking any chances with the landlord, we’re leaving through the window. If the doorbell rings,  _ don’t answer it. _ ”

Dan gulped as he looked out the window.

“Phil… have you thought this through? That’s a… that’s a long way down.”

“Well, I called PJ and he said it’s fine, the grass is soft. He does abseiling, so I know the-  _ ropes _ .”

Phil giggled a bit and started anchoring on the railings, ropes flying everywhere.

“Okay, Phil. Phi! PHIL!” Phil turned around, halfway through tying a knot

“Yeeess?”

“You’re destroying your room. Stop. I’ll take you abseiling, rock climbing, prussiking, anytime you like, but please, just take the door!”

“ _ Fine. _ Let’s go, nobody else is up now.”

“Okay, I just gotta grab  _ one _ thing. I’ve been waiting,” Dan said, jogging out of the room and returning with something wrapped in a plastic bag. 

“No peeking!”

“Fine.”

~~~

It took half an hour, but the pair had finally found a spot. Mitsuko was with them, bounding around their feet before finding a nice rock and lying down on it. 

“We did a good job,” Dan commented, looking around at the clearing. It had a small waterhole near it, and some large, smooth rocks scattered around. The grass was lush and the ground was flat, the waterhole was filled with orchid blossoms and the breeze was light.

“Yeah, even Mitsuko likes it!” Phil gestures at the rock where Mitsuko was lying, but all they caught was a glimpse of caramel fur running to the waterhole and a splash.

“You bring anything to sit on? Those rocks look uncomfortable.” Dan asked, and Phil just smirked in response (Dan swore it would be more painful to be struck by lightning).

“Ta-da!” Phil sang, throwing a red bundle at Dan, who fumbled but saved it before it hit the ground.

“So  _ that’s _ why the bag was so big.” Dan muttered, unfolding the blanket with a flourish.

“Just put it over there.” Phil pointed to a sizable rock, big enough for both of them to lie side by side without touching (who was he kidding, there was enough for them lying normally  _ and  _ the dog).

It was Dan’s turn to smirk.

“I don’t think so, Lester.” Dan had wrapped the blanket around himself and was backing away into the orchid forest (Phil wondered if the faeries were sprinkling magic dust. Maybe even lucky dust).

“Really, Dann-” Phil couldn’t finish because he was sprinting as fast as he could towards Dan. Dan had enough time to holler ‘shi-!’ before he turned and bolted (was this real life? Was Phil actually chasing him in a blanket through the orchid forest?). Dan let out a squeal as he stumbled over a squirrel, but Phil didn’t stop to check to see if it was okay. He was a jaguar, set on his prey and at ease, comfortable and graceful in his home territory. Dan, on the other hand, was a baby elephant; clumsy, unsure and scared (at least he looked scared. Was Phil toying with him? Could Phil catch up and end it, or did he let it go on? Did Dan want to be toyed with? He wasn’t sure).

Mitsuko was hot on Phil’s heels, yipping happily at the high-speed chase. She seemed at ease, dashing along beside Phil, vaulting over tree roots and plants like a seasoned pro. She looked like she had done something like this before. Maybe she had been a hunting dog. The scent of wet dog hit Dan’s nostrils, confusion following. He stumbled, but instead of continuing he fell over, and Phil couldn’t stop in time and landed on top of Dan, knocking the air out of him.

“Ph….” Dan was winded and couldn’t say much more, but Phil understood and rolled off.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” Phil hefted Dan up, holding him around the waist.

“Ye…” Dan was inhaling and exhaling and nothing was happening (It wasn’t the first time Phil had made him feel this way, it was just the first time he was showing it).

“I’m super sorry. Here, let me piggyback you back. Hop on.” Dan wheezed his thanks and roped his arms carefully around Phil’s neck, Mitsuko trotting along beside them.

By the time they reached the clearing Dan had his breath back.

“Jesus  _ Christ _ I hate that feeling. You ever been winded before?”

“Yeah, but not for a long time.”

Dan shook his head, muttering ‘lucky bastard’ under his breath.

“Hey, Phil…”

“Yeeesss Danny?” 

“Did you pick up the blanket?” There was an awkward silence as Phil shook his head. Luckily (those damn faeries), Mitsuko bounded into the clearing, nearly tripping over the blanket in her maw.

“Mitsy! Good girl!” Dan murmured, bending down and stroking her pelt, look of fondness in his eyes sending a knife into Phil’s stomach (what were all the authors talking about, all the heart stuff. All Phil’s feelings happen in his stomach).

“Good girl, Mitsuko Amarante Howell-Lester!” Phil used her full name for maximum effect.

“Doggy treats for you!” Dan reaches into the bag at his side and feeds her some treats. They praise Mitsy for a few minutes more, then Dan picks up the blanket and puts it where it needs to be.

“How do you remember where it was meant to go?” Phil asks, shaking his head with his eyes wide.

‘I remember everything about you, Phil Lester.’ Dan wants to say.

“I remember because you chased me through the woods for it.” He says instead, smoothing out the edges.

Phil just laughs, and Dan’s butterflies turn into a storm.

~~~

The day passes in a whirl of banter, of games of chase and catching food in their mouths. Phil sighs contentedly and stretches out on the rock, head on Dan’s stomach (always the stomach).

“So, what was in the plastic bag?” The sun was just kissing the horizon (Dan was thinking about kissing something else in another life).

“Oh! I completely forgot. Shove off and I’ll get it.” Phil moved and all of a sudden Dan’s stomach was cold and in his feet. He got up and patted Mitsuko on the way, grabbing the plastic bag. Phil heard something glass clanking but lay still, watching the sky paint itself alive.

“You ever wonder what happened to the stars that die?” Phil asks, partly to Dan and partly to himself. 

“No,” Dan says sitting down and lifting up Phil’s head to lay on his lap again.

“But I wonder why the stars die. Why everything has to die and leave. Dead and gone.” There’s a lull in the conversation.

“Yeah. That reminds me, what are you always murmuring under your breath? It sounds like a song,” Phil says, his voice soft and lilting.

“Oh, that one….” Dan lies down again and his gaze travels a thousand miles away (is it weird Phil hopes in the first instant that he’s thinking of him?).

“It’s not my song. It’s my mum’s. She… used to sing it when I couldn’t fall asleep. I didn’t realise I sing it so much, it must be an unconscious grounding technique. Thanks again for what you did the other day.”

“No problem, I know you’d do the same for me.” Phil can tell Dan wants to steer the conversation away from this topic. He can sense a wound, a deep cut on the inside that Dan’s not ready to tell Phil about. Phil lets him keep it hidden.

“So, what’s in the bag? I’m curious, and I think Mitsy is too.”

“ _ Fine _ ,” Dan sighs with fake resignation. “I’ll show you. Don’t get mad though.”

This only makes Phil more curious as Dan attempts to undo the knot he tied in the handles.

“Typing hands, piano hands. Pass it here.” Phil holds his hand out, wiggling the fingers, and Dan drops it in, huffing and crossing his arms like a three year old.

Phil undoes the knot with ease and hands the weighty bag back, catching a fond glance from Dan on the way (Phil is surprised with a flip-flop. Where did all the lightning go?)

“Ta-da!” Dan announces, holding a bottle of wine and two glasses over Phil’s field of vision.

“What? Dan-” Phil snatches the wine bottle out of Dan’s hand, peering at the label on the front.

“Chardonnay- This is expensive stuff! Dan, I love you for buying it for us, I really do, but we can’t afford this kind of stuff! Can you return wine? Dan, we were pushing a dog, but wine?!” Phil sat upright, eyes wide and panicked as he looked at Dan, smirking back at him (Dan’s insides were on red alert. Phil had, in a roundabout way, said he loved him. Was it like friend love? Family? Dan didn’t have time to analyse. He was shocked Phil couldn’t see his stomach imploding)

“Phil, Phil, calm down. Do you think I’m that dense? Chris bought me this before I left my old flat. I’ve been waiting for the right time to drink it, and now seemed perfect. Plus, I can’t exactly get a cash refund for a gift.”

It turns out Dan wasn’t the only one with swinging feelings.

“Jeez! Dan, you gave me a heart attack,” Phil moved over and hugged Dan, lingering a bit too long (not that Dan was complaining).

Dan seized the bottle back and started pouring. Dan’s mind wandered yet again, and he came upon the memory of where he actually got the bottle

***

_ It was a few weeks after… after it happened. Dan seemed fine, was fine most of the time, until a scent on the breeze, a quirk or phrase or sight that made Dan think, make him remember, make him blink a lot as he made his way to the nearest bathroom. _

_ He was cleaning out the pantry that hadn’t been cleaned in weeks. Nobody seemed to remember simple chores except Dan in those days. He cringed at the use by dates, chucking the way-over ones across the kitchen, sniffing the just-over to check if they were okay (most weren’t). _

_ He was nearly finished when he came across a tall brown paper bag. He flinched reflexively as his brain made the connection, but he still pulled the bottle out. _

_ “Cardonay Pinott Noyer, wait, Chardonnay Pinot Noir,” Dan whispered to himself (he whispered a lot back then too, and sang the song a lot more. Well, thought the song). He turned over the bottle to locate a use-by or best-before date (they were all the same to him then), but instead found a note instead of the label. _

Daniel James Howell,

This bottle is for you. Once you find this, hide it in the drawer- you know the one. 

Keep it, it tastes better the longer it sits. 

Use this with the one- you know the one. I know you will.

Always unfading love,

-D xo

***

Dan had a teary-eyed smile as he passed the glass to Phil. 

“To us,” Mitsuko bumped his thigh with her nose. “And Mitsuko, even though you’re already included in us, silly doggo.” Dan toasts, clinking glasses and taking a sip. It tasted sweet and airy, but left an aftertaste in his mouth. Bittersweet.

“To us,” Phil echoed, taking a sip. It tasted like summer nights, like the one that had taken over the sky. Phil took another sip, nearly shivering with the ethereal taste, and got up. He collected a sketchbook and a few pencils from the bag, and went back to the rock, sitting down and mentally sketching the boundaries of his drawing.

Dan was sitting upright, staring at the sky. Phil took a mental picture, just in case Dan moved, and began, pencil scratching a soothing rhythm on the paper.

“ _ The night is young, _

_ Words unsung. _

_ Here you are, _

_ Mine you are. _

_ The sun does rise, _

_ Early death, _

_ Of the night, _

_ Hold your breath. _

_ It’s time now, go, _

_ Find the piece, _

_ Of your soul, _

_ Miss-i-ing. _

_ Your cold skin bites, _

_ Mourning you. _

_ I am here, _

_ Here you’re not. _

_ Say goodbye to, _

_ Good times gone. _

_ I will wait for, _

_ Lover’s death.” _

Phil looked up when Dan started singing, watching, but saw the glossy sheen over his eyes and continued drawing.

“My mum. She was… she was charismatic. She was a writer, too, of lyrics. Funnily enough, that’s not her song,” Dan laughed, the stars burning out his retinas one cone at a time. He continued. 

“It was her mum’s, I think. But it’s been around as a lullaby in our family for ‘yonks’- that’s what mum used to say, I think,” Phil’s drawing studiously, but his whole body is in tune with Dan’s, his story- this is straight from the heart. Dan was unwrapping his bandages.

“She sung it a lot to me. I used to be afraid of the dark, of the things lurking. But when she was around, God, there were angels... I used to tell her I could feel their wing beats, their harps playing. She told me they were my relatives who’d passed through the Veil, but they’d watch over and protect me. She told me when she passed she’d… she’d be there as soon as possible, ASAP, to protect me.” Dan’s shoulders were curled in, and he was cupping his elbows.

“She- she was the best mum I could ask for. She’d encourage me to write, to tell ‘my heart’s story’. I was sick one night, so sick… she got me a new blanket, a stuffed bear and some medicine. The nearest store that sold that kind of stuff was half an hour away,” Phil could hear the sadness creeping into Dan’s voice, the child’s plaintive voice asking to go home.

“She was sick- so sick. They told me that she was just on work trips, on holidays- just away. I was twelve. She died. She died one night and they didn’t tell me until a day later. She was gone- I never got to say goodbye, never got to tell her that I’d protect her too, that I’m sorry I didn’t.” Dan’s shoulders were shuddering now, raindrops splattering on his jeans. Mitsuko moved over and rested her head on Dan’s lap, whining.

“Father- Father yelled a lot. Said it was my fault. It  _ was _ my fault. COPD, Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease. It’s caused by air pollution. Father smoked a lot indoors. If I was home more, if I got her out earlier, if I hadn’t just kept doing what I was doing… it would all be alright. She would be okay, and so would he. He died in a car crash a few months later. Drunk, didn’t know whose fault it was. Couldn’t sue, money couldn’t buy you out of sadness... There were no relatives… I fell into the foster care system. I didn’t get out until I could stand on my own two feet.” Phil’s eyes were shining too, and he put down his book, shuffled over and hugged Dan by his side. He didn’t speak, he couldn’t think of anything. So there they sat, they three, with shuddering shoulders and enough tears to fill the wine bottle that was finally empty.

~~~

They sat like that for what could have been minutes but may have been hours. Mitsuko eventually drifted off to sleep, twitching occasionally.

“So… thanks for the wine,” Phil breathed into Dan’s ear. Hoping he understood the metaphor (Dan did, Dan always did). They were both slightly tipsy on sadness and alcohol, their edges blurred.

“No problem. I’ve been keeping it for so long… it’s nice to get rid of. Why are you whispering?” Dan giggled, whispering himself.

“I don’t know,” Phil replied, poking Dan in the side and making him chuckle again.

“I’ve… I’ve never actually seen your art. Do you mind if I… have a look at the one you did earlier?” 

Phil blushed profusely, it seemed he wasn’t as stealthy as he thought he was.

“Well, it  _ is _ only half finished, but if you really want…” Dan nodded shyly, wiping his eyes with his sweater paw.

Phil grabbed the sketchbook laying beside him, and flipped past all the other sketches in there, finding the most recent. He inhaled slowly and passed the book over to Dan, fingers crossing of their own accord.

“It’s… it’s me. Why have you drawn me? And why with wings?”

“I guess it’s my turn to share…” Phil chuckled but lowered his head.

"Just, keep looking through. I'll explain as you go." Dan nodded, still struck numb by the revelation.

"Back in my old flat, I only got muse about once every fortnight, and even then it was weak and not good for anything. I had to move- that's what PJ told me. That's why I'm here, the muse vibes were- better than anything I've ever felt."

"And then, of course, you came and I was a bit annoyed. What if you killed my muse? I was scared. And then... You turned out not so bad. You let me have my creative freedom, you didn't take up any headspace when we were in the same room, even when we were right next to each other- I figured it was because we were in the same headspace, sharing the creativity."

"And then there was that night, where you woke me up and I painted on the wall. You never did see that one properly, did you?"

Dan shook his head.

"That was the first one. The first one I drew of you. In my dreams, you were an angel- and when I woke up, you were standing in the doorway, you were for a second. An angel. Light caught off stray hairs and blurry vision make great visuals."

"So not only did you not take up any headspace, but you became the subject of my muse, the catalyst for most of my art, most of which I have sketched in there with some notes."

Dan nodded again, realising for the first time the measurements and scribbly notes weren't part of it.

"So... Yeah. You've been my angel of muse as of late." Phil smiled nervously, lifting up his head slightly to peer at Dan from hooded eyes.

And then Dan did something he could only have done with what had just happened.

He kissed Phil.

~~~

Phil blinked suddenly, with Dan's lips pressed against his. 

Even though he had wanted it, even though he'd been dreaming of this moment for months...

Phil pulled away. 

He knew that Dan was a lightweight, and half a bottle was already far too much.

Phil saw the confusion in Dan's eyes and placed his hands either side of Dan's head.

"Dan. I'm sorry. You're drunk. You probably- you probably wouldn't want this sober. And I don't want our first us moment, really us, to be when you won't even remember it. I'm sorry. I don't want you to hate me when you're not here. Please, just wait." Both of their eyes were glimmering under the luminous sky.

Dan's head sunk, and Phil let go, watching with tears in his eyes as Dan collected himself, and the empty bottle, the glasses and left.

Phil let the tears slip down his flushed cheeks. Dan was gone. Mitsuko woke up, and nosed Phil's hand questioningly.

"It’s okay, girl. I just stopped him from making a stupid mistake- right?" Mitsy only whimpered sympathetically.

Phil lay on the rock, on their rock, until he saw the sky lighten. 

“ _ Say goodbye to, _

_ Good times gone. _

_ I will wait for, _

_ Lover’s death.”  _ Phil sang, wiping his eyes. It fit perfectly. He didn’t understand the line ‘lover’s death’ before, but now he did. It killed to love someone who didn’t love you back, and it just twisted the blade when you were the one who had to say no. Phil imagined what would have happened if Dan was sober.

Then he left, too.

~~~

Dan woke up with a stinging headache and a sore back. He struggled to open his eyes, and when he did, he was disorientated by darkness. He distinctly remembered falling asleep on the couch, and yet here he was, lying on his bed with the curtains drawn and under the covers.

‘ _ What… happened _ ?’ Dan thought, and then pictures sprung into his mind- the day in the forest, the dog, the chase, the wine and his story… the rest was blurry and the room was tilting and he nearly threw up.

He opened his eyes and withdrew himself from his memories. He sat up with tremendous effort and the bed swayed under his hands, throwing him slightly off balance.

“Phil…” He croaked, but there was no answering call (Dan quirked an eyebrow, confused, but Phil was in all his memories so maybe he would still be asleep).

It took a full ten minutes and a lot of stopping, but Dan finally made it into the kitchen and got a glass of water and two Advil- his headache was  _ killing _ (he knew he was a lightweight, but he never thought he would be  _ this _ bad. Then again, that was the first time he drank since those uni years, five years ago. He had underestimated hangovers then, too, and it seemed he hadn’t learned).

Dan didn’t like the still silence of the house. He made his way to Phil’s room slightly quicker (but still incredibly slow), and figured since they had slept together, he was allowed to peek at sleeping Phil (another image sprang to his mind- Phil lying with his head on Dan’s thighs, handing him a book (was it a notebook?)).

Dan eased the door open and moved his head around the door slowly, looking around, but there was no Phil. He walked in, not caring about the noise he made anymore, and checked under the covers- still no Phil. He looked in the cupboard, under the bed, but to no avail. He started to search outside the room, then started tearing apart the house sporadically in his crazed search, calling Phil’s name all the while.

Dan had checked everywhere. He found Mitsuko curled up under his bed, safe and sound, and some laundry they had both been shoving into various places that were not the basket. As a last resort, Dan opened the front door. Still no sign of Phil as he walked around a bit, but he had found a note stuck to the door (using Dan’s black and white checkered tape- he sighed, knowing Phil had used it to annoy him. It wasn’t the first time).

‘Dan-‘ It read, and he laughed at Phil’s dramatic beginning, ignoring confused stares from the neighbours.

‘You probably don’t remember much of last night. I do. ‘(Dan nodded, muttering an ‘of course’ under his breath)

‘I’m at an undisclosed location if it’s… ten thirty, knowing you and your hangovers.’ (Dan checked the clock inside. It was. Dan shook his head at Phil’s knowledge of Dan’s head).

“I might tell you, one day, what happened.’ (The phrase beside it was scribbled out, but there was a barely-decipherable ‘Or’ at the front. Dan tried turning the paper over to read the back, but Phil was one step ahead. Again).

‘Anyways, I’m safe and sound. Call Chris if you’re worried.

‘Thanks again for last night, but if I ever end up telling you what happened you’ll understand why I’m doing this. I’ll be back in a few days. There’s yoghurt in the top of the fridge and enough maltesers to last you until I come back- they’re in my special drawer, you know where the key is.’ (Dan laughed at the memory, but shook his head at the maltesers- Dan  _ always _ ate them all in the same day. Hopefully Phil would be back then)

‘Actually, just call Chris when you get this. Please.

All the best (don’t get sick)

-Phil’

There was something else scribbled out next to his name, but hastily- Dan could see the ‘xo’ written underneath. His heart skipped about three beats then thudded almost painfully in his chest (Finally, his heart was getting in on the action).

Dan grabbed the note and went inside, attempting to slam the door. He failed, but still slid down the door, flopping his arms to the side. He found his phone under his left hand with a note on the back (‘I know you too well, Dan. Let’s not make this a habit’ – Dan groaned and tore off the note.

Mitsuko came over and sat with him. He dialled Chris and went to clear his throat, but realises he’s humming- and has been the whole time. He envisions where Chris had left his phone  _ this _ time.

“Chris, hi… What’s happening?!”

~~~

PJ was surprised, to say the least, when Phil turned up at his door at six am.

“Phil? No, wait, come in and get comfortable first,” They didn’t even have to finish their sentences to be understood at this stage in the friendship.

Phil obliged, but first giving PJ a hug, squeezing him extra tight.

“It’s been awhile, eh?” PJ just nodded and let go, walking into the kitchen and turning around with a mug in his hand.

“Ginger, Chai and Earl Grey- oh, you may as well throw some Green in there as well.” He said this nonchalantly, but they both knew what Green tea meant- Big Event.

PJ finished as soon as possible and put Phil’s two mugs on the table- Phil raised an eyebrow.

“Thought four mugs was a bit much. I blended a bit.” Phil just shrugged, and PJ raised an eyebrow.

Phil sighed.

“Okay, I know I’ve been keeping in contact, but there’s been something I haven’t told you,” PJ’s brain was whirring- they told each other  _ everything _ . What was so important, controversial or scary that Phil withheld it?

“I… crush on Dan.” He mumbled, and PJ sat back in shock.

“Well, I see why you needed the green. Here’s to-“

“I’m not done. That wasn’t even the biggie,” PJ didn’t get too settled, he knew he was going to sit bolt upright when Phil told him whatever was bigger than… that.

“Should I start from the start, or say what it was and then explain?” Phil asked, and PJ just looked at him, speaking with his eyes- ‘ _ you’re stalling _ ,’

“Dan kissed me. I pushed him away,” PJ sat upright as he predicted, but kept a steady face.

“We went exploring, like I told you we would. It was a great day, we brought the dog and we had so much fun. The sun started to set. Dan had brought wine, and we started drinking. We finished the bottle. He told me… his past,” PJ forgave him for holding that information. That was private stuff.

“And then I showed him my art and I explained how he was my muse. And then we… and then I had to pull away,” Phil was holding his sides and shrinking

“And then I told him that he was drunk, he wouldn’t- wouldn’t do it sober. He walked off. I followed after a while, went in and made him comfortable, bought him some food and waited around town. I got the first taxi here and here I am.” Phil’s breathing was shaky and he was trying to stay calm. His eyes were filling up again and PJ was pulling him into another hug.

“Shh-h, it’s okay,” PJ consoled, and Phil inhaled and pulled away.

“Problem is, I left a note for Dan telling him I’d be away for a few days. Okay if I crash here?”

“Sure. But we’re having a dinner, all four of us, when you’re ready to go back.”

“Can we make it five? There’s this girl called Louise at work who we get along with really well.”

“Sure. Now, what do you want to play?”

~~~

“Oh hey Dan! Nice way to greet your friend!” Chris replied lightly, hearing Dan grit his teeth.

“Chris, not the time.”

“Right. So, as you can tell, being the lightweight you are, you got drunk. You did something Phil wasn’t sure you would do sober, so he stopped you. You left. He followed, moved you from couch to bed, bought your food and left to an undisclosed location.”

“Right. Can you tell me what happened?”

“Dan, I might tell you… if I knew. I got no clue. Want me to come over to fill the space?”

“Yup. We got some stuff to talk about.”

“Right. Be over in a jiff.” Chris hung up and Dan heaved himself to feed the dog.

~~~

“Okay,” Phil said a day later as they were watching a movie (it was Big Hero 6, Phil was recalling what happened last time he watched it. And what could have happened, too).

“Mm?” PJ replied, lolling his head to look at Phil.

“It’s been nice wearing your clothes and sleeping on your couch, but Dan’ll be nearly finished the Maltesers. Dinner night’s tonight. Can you ring Chris and let him know?”

“Already on it.” PJ smiled and held the phone up to the side of his head, speaking quickly and hanging up.

“Chris’ll bring Dan and pick up Louise on the way. Now, what are  _ you _ gonna wear?”

“.... Darn it. You up for some espionage?”

“You don’t even have to ask.”

~~~

“Wait, are you sure it’s a good idea to break into my own house?” Phil was having doubts in the back of the taxi (this was the most black he’d ever worn, he wondered if Dan would appreciate this level of darkness).

“Well, considering you left your key and you guys don’t have a spare, yes, yes it is the  _ only  _ option to solve this problem. Beanies down, we’re getting close,” PJ said, pulling down Phil’s slowly. Phil was just thanking his lucky stars that PJ had told the taxi driver what they were doing and he hadn’t called the police yet.

“Alright, this’ll be fine here. Thank you so much!” PJ said, paying the cabbie and hopping out, Phil following slowly. He always had issues with his gangly limbs and small cars (Phil couldn’t hold a light to Dan, though. Dan had more issues than he did).

“Masks on. Let’s go. Remember, if you trip, just roll with it and for the love of Link  _ don’t make a noise.” _

Phil nodded and pulled up his balaclava. He was ready.

PJ quickly texted Chris, getting him to move Dan into the kitchen, the farthest room away from Phil’s. It was mostly blocked off, but there was an area where if Dan turned around, they were toast. 

Phil sent a quick prayer to the Karma god to remind them what they had made Phil suffer through, and they entered the house.

Perfect conditions. The TV was on, Chris and Dan in the kitchen making heaps of noise. They had left out only one factor. 

Mitsuko.

Now, Mitsuko Amarante Howell-Lester did not only like her owners, nor love them- she adored them. The moment PJ opened the door and Phil’s scent was wafted into the apartment… She went  _ off. _

She hadn’t seen Phil in a few days, and in dog time that is more like a few years. Where she was asleep in the laundry a few seconds ago she was up and barking  _ very loudly _ and skidding towards the door.

PJ coughs loudly and Phil grabs the dog, hand over her mouth lightly, and they both bolt into Phil’s bedroom, Phil leading. He attempts to slam the door, but PJ catches it and eases it closed. They both wait in silence.

“What’s up with your dog?” Chris asks, and they hear the fridge door slam, then open and slam again. Which they had pre-decided was code for ‘hurry up’. Phil’s eyes widen and he opens his closet, tossing a few shirts from his ‘nice’ side of the wardrobe before easing it back shut and turning to PJ, Mitsuko still in his arms.

‘We need to grab her leash!’ Phil mouths and PJ shakes his head.

‘Too risky!’

‘Do it! Otherwise we’re stuffed anyway!’ PJ narrows his eyes but eases out the door. Phil can see him creep down the hall, and turn into the laundry, and then he mentally face-palms. He didn’t tell PJ where the leash is!

Phil mimes as best as he can entering the laundry, turning left and reaching for the invisible leash. Unfortunately, Phil was not a very good mime. PJ shakes his head in confusion, and Phil groans silently and creeps down after him, closing them both in the laundry.

“Why were you pretending to be a ballerina?!” PJ whisper-shouted, Phil’s clothes still in his arms.

“I was  _ miming, _ PJ,  _ miming! _ ” Phil grabs the leash and clips it to Mitsy’s collar.

“Get better at miming!”

“Get better at interpreting!”

“Just-” Phil was about to retaliate, but he heard Dan (his heart still stopped in his chest).

They hear Dan say he’s going to check on Mitsy, and the heavy footsteps Phil knows as well as PJ’s.

‘Hide!’ they mouth at each other. Phil puts Mitsy on the floor, whispering a quick ‘be good’ before he makes her sit. He sees PJ climb into the laundry basket, and is about to climb into a cupboard when he feels a tap on his ankle. Peej shakes his head and points to the old top-loading washing machine (it came with the house and barely worked, not that it was used that often).

Phil sighs and rolls his eyes but obeys, maneuvering his limbs as best he can. The lid closes and he’s left in pitch blackness.

“You right girl?” Dan asks, and Phil can hear the sadness in his voice. Mitsy whines.

“I’m missing him too. My maltesers are nearly out, I’m about to eat the last one. I hope he’s back soon.” Dan sighs and Phil can hear as the door creaks half-closed (his stomach and his heart and everywhere else is numb and tingly and he can’t really tell but he thinks he’s smiling like an idiot).

Phil can hear the laundry basket creak open and PJ opens the lid of the washing machine, smirking.

“Well, let’s get this show on the road!”

~~~

Dan’s confused and mopey and is in a pajama-day mode. 

“Chrisss,” He whines.

“Why do we have to go out to dinner?”

“Firstly because we both can’t cook and you don’t have any good food, secondly because you’ll see and thirdly  _ because _ .”

Dan sighs and pushes off the bench.

“Fine. But this better be amazing.”

“Don’t worry, it will be,” Chris moves into the doorway of the kitchen, seeing the door just close. 

‘ _ Good. _ ’ He thinks, and heads into the living room where all of his clothes are (Dan wouldn’t let him use Phil’s room. Chris has been teasing him about his lovesickness for Phil. Dan just pushes him away, literally).

“You ready?” Dan calls in a few minutes, and Chris emerges into the hall to Dan, dressed as nice as he’s ever seen him.

“You look wonderful, mate. Let’s go.”

“I should check on Mitsy-”

“We won’t be long. We’re gonna be late!” Chris huffs out nervously as he grabs Dan’s arm and his own wallet.

~~~

This wasn’t the first time Phil had gotten changed in a bush (the first time was in fifth grade when his ‘friend’  _ needed _ to swap shirts. Phil has hated poison ivy ever since (and John McKinney)).

“Next,” Phil called, crouching bare-chested.

“I feel like a sales attenda-”

“Well,  _ I _ feel like an idiot so just pass the shirt!” Phil snatched it out of PJ’s hand and instantly smiled. It was the shirt he wore when he first met Dan (a good day for all).

He slipped it on and felt a slight irritation in the collar area. He reached to the back of his button-up and grabbed it, finding a small piece of paper.

‘What a great day,’ it read, and Phil cocked his head. He stood up and PJ handed him his jacket. Luckily (those faeries are amazing), PJ had brought a bag to dump all their black gear in.

“Did you notice anything… weird… on the collars?” Phil asked, holding the note. PJ nodded and handed him the other ones he had collected.

‘He’d look very handsome in this one… why has he never worn it?’

‘God, come back. I miss him more than I’d miss my left arm,’

‘It’s a lover’s death. Woe is me,’

‘Quiet is so painfully violent without him,’

Phil looked at PJ, and PJ shook his head.

“Not me, and I’m guessing it’s not Chris or the dog…” Mitsy shook her body of leaves as if on cue, her leash wrapped around Peej’s wrist.

“No time to analyse, Phil. Let’s go.”

Phil exhaled and grabbed Mitsuko.

“Let’s do this.”

~~~

Dan had never been more shocked in his life (that was a lie, but it felt like his stomach was doing a thousand things at once. He hoped he wasn’t having a heart attack).

There, standing in front of the ordering counter, was Phil. Even though his hair was wild and his back was turned, Dan’s stomach knew.

“Phil!” Dan yelled, for once not caring about stranger’s opinions.

Phil turned around and his face went through a reel of emotions too quick for Dan to see, but settled on joy. Phil waved Dan up, and he came, skipping the line and grabbing Phil’s hand and squeezing it.

“This is the rest of our party! Table for five, please.” Dan was confused at the strange voice and the number of people at the table (Phil was taking up so much of his vision. It wasn’t fair. Dan needed to see other things occasionally). He looked around and saw PJ and Louise, and his face jumped into surprise as he went over to hug them both.

“This way, please.” A waiter said, and they all followed, seating themselves at the table as they arrived (Dan sat next to Phil, of course, after a vicious stare towards Chris) (Fucking Chris. No,  _ fuck _ Chris. No. Don’t fuck Chris.).

“Can I get you any drinks?” The waiter asked, bending over slightly. Dan flashbacked a few months to another waiter, another table but the same person at his side.

He looked over to Phil, who looked back at him with a barely concealed grin. They waited until they had all ordered, and burst out laughing simultaneously.

PJ shared a look with Chris, but Chris looked just as confused as Louise (there was a lack of communication between Chris and Dan, mostly because they had nothing important to share most of the time, or nothing the other cared about).

Louise quirked an eyebrow at the laughing pair, but they couldn’t stop. Dan ordering the eggs Benedict, Phil trading it, the waitress. They were tired (they woke up every half hour or so without hearing the other’s sleeping sounds- Phil’s gentle sheet rustling and Dan’s soft dreaming sounds) and had been missing each other like a limb. And all of these factors combined turned them near-hysterical.

PJ sighed and explained to the others the time at the cafe, where the waitress leaned over and flustered Dan (it was even more humorous because they both knew they liked guys… or at least, one guy in particular).

They calmed down, finally, and Chris and PJ shared a look, one of confirmation, knowing and silent laughter.

Dan’s phone buzzed, a message popping up. He figured the day couldn’t get any better, and therefore any worse, so he looked.

“‘Hi, will need one thousand two-fifty by day after next- you know how it is. Need then or you’ll have to move out.’” Dan murmured under his breath, and the table went deathly silent (Phil could feel a heartbeat in his arm- was it Dan’s, or was it just his own moving around? Whoever the heartbeat belonged to, it didn’t feel calm).

“One- one thousand two hundred and fifty?” Phil confirmed meekly, and Dan nodded, facing straight ahead with a look of horror on his face (he didn’t need to see Phil’s face to see Phil’s face, as it were. He knew exactly how Phil was looking and how he was feeling, just like he could  _ feel  _ Phil even when he couldn’t see him).

Phil buried his face in his hands, and Dan didn’t have it in him to comfort him. It was just like life to give him one thing and take away another. They didn’t have enough to foot that bill, even with all of his savings plus Phil’s. His book would take at least a week at least to publish, and he knew Phil couldn’t sell his art or put on an exhibition at such short notice.

“How are we going to…” Phil just shook his head. Dan could see his eyes glimmering unnaturally (so many tears in the past three days. Too many).

“I don’t know,” Phil replied shakily, lifting his head to look into Dan’s eyes. His eyes spoke depths that only Dan felt he could understand- they would have to move out to pay. There was no miracle, no happy-ever-after (even though Dan felt he deserved one after… everything), no secret stash, relative willing to give nor any buyers.

Dan looked over at Louise and saw something brewing in her eyes, a plan. Dan jumped in place as Louise pushed up from the table, sticking her index finger in the air.

“That’s it!” She cried, and Dan winced as the people at surrounding tables turned to look. Dan and Phil exchanged a confused glance, hoping that the other knew where this was going (Dan couldn’t look for long- Phil’s cerulean gaze was so sad, so hopeless he nearly cried).

“You can write a book!” Dan’s head was shaking as it sunk into his hands.

“A  _ kid’s _ book! Like eighteen lines and simple images! I’m a teacher at the school here, and the kids are always asking for a book about Framlingham. If you can get some to me by… around twelve noon tomorrow, looking as professional as possible, we’ll pay you twenty for every book you make. I’ll talk to Bob about using the photocopier at the cafe as well, we’ll get you the keys…” They could all tell Louise was thinking on the spot, figuring it out and sliding all the pieces together (Dan bumped Phil’s foot under the table. Phil bumped his right back. He looked at Phil, seeing the hope flood into his eyes like water. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and suddenly he knew his main character had to have blue eyes).

“Bob’ll give you a couple hundred for working around the clock, you can pay me back if you take my shift money, if you volunteer at the school and teach about your things then that’ll be another hundred each, and maybe that’ll foot it.” Dan was shaking his head. How did Louise know so many people?

“So, you wanna do this?” Louise asks, and they only had to sneak a glance at each to know.

“We’re in.”

~~~

They thanked Chris, PJ and Louise for coming, then left the table and started making their way home (PJ had to remind them to take Louise’s keys to the coffee shop and Mitsuko).

“So. They’re finally together?” Louise asks, leaning over the table.

“Nope. But Phil’s crushing on Dan, and vice versa if I’m not mistaken?” Chris nodded confirmation.

“Well, had me fooled.”

“Don’t tell ‘em. It’s kinda fun watching them flounder,” Chris said, taking a sip of his cheap beer.

“We need them to find out for themselves,” PJ added, and Louise nodded.

“So, the bolognese is amazing but the parmigiana is not. What are you guys gonna order?”

~~~   
Dan burst the door open, Phil following with Mitsy in tow.

“Right, what are we doing this on?” Phil asked, Dan’s eyes closing and palm flying to his head.

“Shit,” he muttered.

“I didn’t think this far.”

“Luckily enough, I did.” Phil moved to the office, purpose in his step. He made a quick sweep of the room, and began preparing the materials. He threw the paper from the printer onto the desk, stapler and shiny white wrapping paper following.

“Where’s the laminator?” Phil asked, but Dan had no time to answer as Phil plopped it on the pile.

“Dan,” Phil moved over and grabbed Dan by the shoulders, looking into his eyes, traversing the depths with ease.

“Forget  _ everything _ I said about sleep. We’re not resting until we get our one thousand, two hundred and fifty dollars, or until we both collapse.” Dan nodded resolutely, but broke into a smile after a few seconds and quickly hugged Phil.

“Let’s do this.” Phil pulled away and jogged into his bedroom.

“Don’t start writing on the good paper! Type it up first, you work better typing!” Despite the looming threat of the moment, Dan smiled and shook his head, still amazed at Phil’s knowledge of him. He pulled over his laptop and opened a new word document. There was no time for careful dripping water now, he had to turn everything on full stream and hope to catch some good storyline.

 

Phil realised as he walked into his bedroom that he had nothing to do until Dan had completed a basic storyline.

But then Phil snapped his fingers and shook his head. It was based in Framlingham. He didn’t need a storyline at all, just a basic knowledge of Dan and some pictures of the town.

He grabbed his laptop and swung onto the bed, opening an internet browser and typing up ‘framlingham’, opening one search in maps and the other in images, and began to look through.

And then he shook his head, smiling. He already  _ knew  _ one place Dan would write about- the forest. He brought up another tab and searched for orchid forests, opening the images, closing his eyes. What would Dan write about? 

The answer came to Phil in an instant. Animals. But decided he needed to be safe.

“Dan! POV?”

“Animal- something small and furry!”

“Thanks!” he yelled back, and could imagine Dan smiling, nodding once and turning on the tap again (Phil knew because Dan had told him how it worked for him. For Phil, it was the opposite, lighting the match and burning out of his body, regenerating like a phoenix in the world he was creating).

He brought up an image looking at the treetops, and one of the forest with an animal in the distance (Phil could draw most of the latter and leave a space until Dan had decided what animal). He got out his watercolours and closed his eyes, lighting that spark that he loved so much and burning away into the new world. 

When he opened his eyes, they were blazing fire.

~~~

Dan’s hands were cramping and spasming slightly as he bumped open the door to Phil’s room with his hip.

“Phil. Phiil… Phil!” Dan called three times, pausing between each, knowing full-well that Phil needed three calls to pull his head out of his world. Phil shook his head as he turned to look at Dan, hands stained pink and brown.

“Okay. Plot is basically an animal wandering around the town and ending up at the primary school- I included Louise. Don’t bother writing these down, I’ve already done it, but the scenes are- the castle, a house based off ours, the cafe, the forest at daytime and nighttime and the school. The main character is a squirrel, any type.” Dan could see the smirk on Phil’s face- Phil had tried to befriend one more than once.

“Oh, and a confrontation with a dog, just base it off Mitsy. I’ll get back to wording it better, and I’ll draw up some concept sketches for whatever scenes you haven’t done. Good luck.”

Phil nodded resolutely, and then stopped dead still for a few seconds, eyes closing. Dan saw the creativity burning in his eyes when he opened them, and went over and kissed him on the forehead, smoothing back his hair.

 

If only Dan had the guts to do so. Instead he waved goodbye and went back to his writing den. If his fingers started spasming, he’d stop typing and work on a concept sketch, and once finished he’d slide it under Phil’s door, knowing if he entered he’d take Phil away from his world, and Dan didn’t want him to lose touch with it too many times.

“Good luck, Phil,” Dan would murmur every time he walked away.

Once Dan had finished his final draft, he went to the kitchen and got some chocolates, Lucky Charms and a packet of snakes. He walked to Phil’s room and knocked on the door, preparing himself to enter, hoping that the faerie dust was still on him. It was a good thing he knocked.

Phil’s room, once cheerfully cluttered and colourful, was now a technicolour typhoon of paint. He had paintings drying on every available horizontal surface bar the floor, and on every vertical surface, blue-tacked, were reference images, Dan’s sketches and example images. Across the floor space that wasn’t the walkway lay the storyboard. Dan avoided that area of the room and ran his hand over the bedspread, avoiding a wet spot as he sat down. Every so often, Phil would stop for a few seconds, as if taking a breath of air after being underwater. After these brief moments of peace he would reignite (Dan could stare at Phil’s eyes for years and not get bored), and dive back into whatever he was doing with renewed vigor. In these moments, Dan zipped over and fed Phil a few bits of something and zoomed back to the bed. He watched, fondness tinging his sight as Phil coaxed life into the A4 sheets of paper, making patterns and places as real-looking as if Dan would see them if he got up and walked to them.

After what could have been minutes but was probably closer to hours, Phil put down his paintbrush into the murky rinsing water and fell to the floor. His eyes fluttered closed, and when he opened them the first thing he focused on was Dan (he wondered briefly if, even just a little bit, he took up more than his fair share of Phil’s sight too). 

Gone was the beast made of fire and creativity, the one who could paint a thousand pictures and never get tired. In its place was Phil, weary and bleary and blurry around the edges, but still a spark in a lightened world. Dan turned his lights off, and all he could see was Phil. His spark, his luck, his muse and his love. 

He couldn’t stand it anymore. He moved fluidly, closing the space between Phil and his, kissing Phil full on the mouth, passions soaring, fire meeting water in the space of burnt creativity.

Or at least, that’s what went through Dan’s head. Instead, he creaked over and helped Phil up, pulling him into a hug that was more Dan holding Phil up than anything else. But that spark was still here, still safe and in his arms, the thing that made him wake up and go to sleep and everything in between, the thing that made his stomach flip and his world turn.

Phil, his spark, home at last.

~~~

After a hasty meal of tea and two-minute noodles, Phil slumped into Dan’s office chair. 

“I’m exhausted but kind of energized at the same time… how long was I out for?”

“We got home around ten, and last I checked it was one thirty… so… three and a half hours?” It took Dan far too long to count the hours. He sat down and leaned his head against Phil’s thigh.

“...Good. Twelve hours until we have to hand in to Louise, three until we have to start thinking about work.” Phil’s sentence was left hanging in the air like a corpse, a grim reminder of what the hours ahead held. Dan inhaled slowly.

“Right. How many copies did you do?” 

“Six, each with slightly different pictures.” Phil replied, stretching out his arms and wiggling his fingers.

“One hundred and twenty bucks. Mind me scanning them in?” 

“Be my guest,” Phil replied. Dan emailed the basics to Phil’s computer and got up, starting to scan in the paintings. Phil opened photoshop and started saving the pictures, putting the right words on the pages, structuring the story. 

~~~

It took a good hour or so, but the story was fully assembled and printing. Dan was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of it, catching the papers as they flew out. Phil couldn’t blame him, he recognised the delirious/three year old stage of tiredness, and figured Dan hadn’t slept all that much in the past three days (Phil knew he hadn’t). He sighed as he watched Dan catch the final piece, adding it to the messy stack beside him. Phil felt regenerated, at least a little bit, after his painting session, like he had napped.

“Come on, Dan, pass the papers here,” Phil’s voice was croaky and sore, but he was using his Dan voice multiplied. Dan obliged jerkily and Phil neatened them up on the desk.

“Pass the wrapping paper, please,” Dan did.

Phil brought the wrapping paper to his room, and used the embers of his flame to paint the front cover. He returned to the office where Dan was where Phil left him, eyes vacantly staring at the side of the desk. Phil tapped his shoulder, Dan blinking and turning around.

“Title?” He asked, and Dan rubbed his eyes.

“...Skipper?” 

“You sure?” Phil asked, knowing Dan’s first title was never his best. Phil uncapped the one calligraphy pen he had left over from high school.

“Skipper Around Town.” Dan said, and his face lightened and he nodded, happy with his suggestion. He leaned his head back on Phil’s leg as Phil wrote the title, and draped his arms loosely around Phil’s leg as he wrote their names. Phil had to stop and think for a minute after his first name, his instinct to write Howell-Lester (maybe someday. His luck had been pretty good thus far).

“Alright, let’s head.” Phil said, putting their books into a plastic folder, then wrapping  _ that _ in a plastic bag and finally plopping it into his messenger bag. He left the original sketches at home, figuring if something went dreadfully,  _ horribly  _ wrong, he would have backups. He patted a sleeping Mitsuko, and closed the door, grabbing Dan’s hand and towing him to work.

They arrived after a few minutes and a trek through a very familiar garden. Phil took out the key to the coffee shop and unlocked the door, closing and locking it after he was done. He followed Louise’s instructions to find the photocopier. He found it without issue and told Dan to make himself a cup of coffee, trusting Dan’s muscle memory more than his brain (if Dan used solely his brain, the coffee shop would soon be ankle-deep in coffee).

Phil photocopied all the books a few times each, stapling them together with a zombie-like sheen over his eyes. Dan emerged ten minutes later, looking more awake and in his right mind. Phil checked Dan’s phone for the time (he had put it in his pocket, he  _ knew _ Dan would lose it if Dan was carrying it).

“Twenty minutes until the shop opens. You ready?” Dan groaned in response, and lay his head on Phil’s shoulder.

“If you hide a bunch of pre-made coffees around, nobody should notice if you’re drinking them quickly.” Dan smirked lazily in response and wrapped his arms around Phil.

“If I could go back and change any part of my life, even my mum’s death, I wouldn’t, because then I might not be here with you, and I don’t wanna take that chance.” Phil’s eyes started watering and he threw his arms around Dan.

“Thank you. I’m so lucky to have you,” he whispered back, the last part half to himself. They stayed like that for what could have been hours, but was probably closer to a half-minute.

“I’ll run back and grab our uniforms and some tea and chocolate. Anything else?” Phil shook his head, and waited until Dan was gone to rub his eyes. He buried his head in his hands, letting the sobs come, making his shoulders shudder with the intensity. He was so damned lucky. And tired.

But lucky.

~~~

Dan shot a glance at Phil. Phil looked up from the coffee he was making to briefly check the clock.

‘Half an hour,” Phil mouthed, then rolled his eyes and pretended to bang his head on the coffee maker. Dan barked a laugh, and turned back around to face the next customer. It was her, the one Dan was serving when he had his… whatever attack.

“Hi!” She sounded sugar-sweet and Dan took in her blonde hair, the air of subtle hostility…

“Lamia,” Dan breathed, connecting the receptionist at the vet to the coffee shop panic.  _ That’s _ why Dan recognised her at the vet’s.

“Dan! It’s been ages.”

“Yeah…” Dan replied unconvincingly, sending over a glance to Phil (he wasn’t looking. Dan was on his own).

“What can I get for you?” Dan gritted his teeth, turning up the corners of his mouth to form a smile.

“Oh, just a caramel frappuccino with…” Lamia listed what sounded like half the store, but Dan had zoned out, hand working of its own accord. His head was a few metres away, standing protectively in front of Phil and growling like a dog. He grimaced as she sashayed away, and swept the store for any potential customers. Nothing. Dan breathed a sigh of relief and slid over to Phil, tacking the note to the coffee machine.

“Should we leave early so we’re not late for Louise?” Dan asked, handing Phil a cup as he needed it.

“No. We have to stay here as long as possible and glean the most money. You’re not helping with all the grimacing at the customers.” They both glanced to the nearly-empty tip jars.

“What if we’re late and don’t get it to her on time?”

“We won’t. Trust me, Dan.”

“But what if-”

“Dan! I said  _ trust me _ !” Phil whipped around to face Dan, apron swishing dramatically. Phil had flames in his eyes and his fist was clenched (even like this, Dan still wanted to massage the tension out of it). Dan turned away to check for customers, and saw one entering. He turned away without speaking.

“Hi, what can I get you?”

~~~

Phil listened to Dan’s voice, as sweet as he could make it. He cringed internally. Dan was worried. So was he. He finished Lamia’s coffees and was moving over to hand them to Dan, but he stumbled over seemingly nothing and tripped, saving himself but not Dan’s clothes.

“Watch it!” Dan growled, turning away and grabbing a tea towel.

“ _ You  _ watch it.” Phil muttered under his breath, still loud enough for Dan to hear (why was he  _ such  _ a loud mutterer?).

“Excuse me? Who was the one who snapped first?!”

“Dan! Listen to yourself. It’s not me you’re angry at, it’s you!” Phil realised his choice of words as soon as they left his mouth. He covered his mouth with his hands.

“Dan, I didn’t-”

“Oh, so it’s _me_ who’s the problem now, is it? It’s my fault we’re here? Am I not contributing enough, am I not worth the effort, was it me who brought us down? After everything I’ve done for you? I literally spent _my_ life savings so you didn’t have to. I’d been saving that wine for _years,_ Phil, _years!_ That was the last thing I had left of her! Am I not contributing enough with my desperate writing, while you’re over there painting like you have all the time in the world?! I’m _done,_ Lester, I’m spent and exhausted and just so _done._ I knew life couldn’t be so good for so long without something bad happening.” Dan shook his head and went back to leaning on the bench, smiling and standing upright as a customer came over. 

“Lover’s death,” Phil whispered bitterly, turning away and dinging the bell.

~~~

Phil turned and looked at the clock. 

“Dan,” he said quietly, waiting for him to half-turn. When he did, eventually, Phil moved his head towards the clock. Dan nodded, and walked away to find Bob. Phil slipped into the spot at the counter.

Phil remembered that breakfast from so long ago. Dan panic-ordered, Phil swapped him (even though he hated eggs benedict. The things love makes you do). Phil calmed Dan down, Dan saw some. And then they left (always leaving. Even their own house).

Dan had his apron in his hand and hung it over a knob in the wall. 

“Let’s get heading. We’ve got five minutes. You got the books?” Phil nodded, trying to take off his apron, fingers unable to grip the messy knot tight enough. He felt gentle hands untie the knot quickly.

“Guess these typing, piano hands are good for something.” Dan moved away, already collecting Phil’s bag. Phil stood there with his hands on the edge of his pockets, palms down. Dan remembered. Maybe he was trying to tell Phil he forgave him (Phil hoped so. God, Phil prayed to those lucky faeries).

They left the store side by side, falling back into step, and Phil knew he had been forgiven when Dan reached for his hand, grabbed it, squeezed it, and let it drop.

It only took a few minutes and two Google Maps checks to find the school. Phil poked Dan when they were standing on the other side of the street, grabbing his phone out of his pocket for him. 

“Dan, ring Louise. I don’t know how to approach kids. They’re scary.” Dan laughed softly and did as Phil asked.

“Come on, come on come on…” Dan whispered, pacing around. Phil watched on nervously.

“Hey! Louise. We’re outside the school and we’ve got all the books. Where do you want us?” Phil observed Dan’s side of the conversation intently.

“You what? Louise, I swear… Okay. We’ll be in now. Thanks, bye.” Dan took the phone away from his ear and looked at Phil, smiling awkwardly.

“Guess what?” He sang weakly.

“What?”

“Louise has promised the kids a  _ special visit _ from the author and illustrator. That’s us. We’re going into the belly of the beast.” Phil sighed.

“Alright, let’s get asked stupidly profound questions by children!” Phil replied, smiling at Dan.

~~~

Dan was surprised as he peered through the window of the classroom. Louise had some basic addition on the board, and not one of the kids were turning away. And then Louise said something, and pointed at the window, and suddenly there was a stampede of tiny faces. A couple banged at the window, and Dan backed away slowly. He grasped the door handle and stared at Phil.

“Feeling lucky?” Phil breathed laughter in response, and Dan turned the doorknob. Several children came dashing to the door frame, hanging off it like small monkeys. They didn’t say a word, only stood there, swinging slightly and staring, blue eyes meeting brown. Dan turned his head to see Phil bent over, wiping a tear away from his eye. He was laughing. Dan scowled and Phil walked over, bumping Dan slightly out of the way with his hip.

“Hey kids!” Phil said, face brightening more than it had been for a day or so. The kids chorused a ‘hi’ back, and admitted entrance (Dan giggled a bit at Phil’s stressed face- precious thing, he didn’t want to step on any toes, literally).

“Louise!” Phil called, hugging her enthusiastically. Dan followed with a few of the stragglers, waiting his turn for Louise. He bent down and hugged her, and heard her whisper ‘thanks’ with more sincerity than he had ever heard from her before.

“Alright kids, we have some very special people here to visit us today. This is Dan, and this is Phil,” They gestured to each other as the names were called, and some of the kids giggled (Dan relaxed- if they would laugh at this, then they’d love the story. Kids were so much more simple than adults).

“And they’re an author and an illustrator. Phil, why don’t you tell us what these words mean?” Phil stepped forward slightly, bent down a bit, and started to explain what the words meant, with lots of hand gestures (a nervous reaction if ever Dan saw one, but Phil looked calm and bubbly on the outside. ‘Good,’ he thought, ‘That makes two of us,’). Louise slipped behind him, and wrote the definitions up on the board in perfect handwriting.

“Okay everyone, let’s give Phil a round of applause!” Louise said, and the class clapped dutifully.

“Now, Dan, what have you brought for us today?” Louise turns to Dan, and Dan smiles nervously.

“Well, kiddos, I got the most super-fantastic thing you’ve ever seen!” Dan tries to discreetly gesture to Phil to hand him a book, but Phil is oblivious (Dan also realises that if you just say something sarcastic in a happy tone, it sounds great). The kids find this hilarious and start cracking up. Dan coughs and stamps his foot, and by this point Dan knows Phil’s acting.

“Phil!” Dan stage whispers, switching his gaze from the kids to Phil and back again.

“PHIL!” Dan yells, and Phil jumps and waves his limbs about. 

“Dan! You scared me!” Phil said, hand over his heart (Dan doesn’t miss the sparkle in Phil’s eyes).

“Phil! The… thing!”

“Oh, right.” Phil drops the bag and scrambles through it.

“Um… Dan!” Phil whispers loudly, gesturing wildly for Dan to come over. Dan does and Phil whispers loudly in his ear.

“I think I’ve lost the… thing.”

“Phil!” Dan yells, and Phil puts a hand over Dan’s mouth.

“Shh… Don’t tell them.”

“You lost it!” One kid yells, and Dan looks up to see his bottom lip wobbling. He looks at Phil out of the corner of his eyes, and sees his own fear reflected back.

“Why don’t you see if you can help them find it!” Dan swears he can see Louise’s halo as the kids rush over (it’s funny, even though they’re both crouching, they still tower over the kids).

“Books!” One little girl squeals, and then looks around nervously, hand still pointed at Phil’s handiwork (Dan has a flash-forward; she’s squealing while reading fanfiction, a teenager. Dan smiles).

“Books!” Dan echoes, catching her eye. She smiles shyly, and Dan reaches out a hand to touch hers (Maybe even a fic-writer).

“Who wants to read them?” Phil asks, and Dan tries not to let his eye water as some kid’s arm hits his face in the rush to put their hand up.

“Okay kids, sit in a circle!” Louise calls, and the kids all scramble for a seat.

They stand up, Phil handing Dan half the books. Dan bends down as he hands the books to the first-graders, sharing a special moment with the girl.

“No peeking!” he whispers, and she nods her head, eyes sparkling.

All the books are handed out, sharing one book between two and three, leaving Dan and Phil with one. Louise pulls over some chairs for them. Phil rushes to sit down, and Dan’s left wondering as he turns around.

“ _ That’s  _ why.” He mutters, eyeing off the tiny chair. He shrugs and sits, having to stick out his legs at their full length to sit comfortably on the primary-school sized chair.

“Okay, kids, listen up to Dan and Phil!” Phil holds up the book, and Dan reads the front cover.

“‘Skipper Around Town’, by Dan Howell-L- ...and Phil Lester.” Dan stutters while reading it, and hurriedly turns to the first page.

“Skipper is a very happy squirrel.”

~~~

They answer questions and do group activities, Dan’s little friend sticking by his side. When it’s time to go, Dan nearly sheds a tear or two. 

“Promise you’ll come back?” The little girl (who Dan has found out is called Arlette) whispers in his ear.

“Promise. I might bring a bigger story next time.” Dan says and pulls out of the hug, looking at her beaming face. 

“Bye, Arlette. Bye, guys! Enjoy the book!” Dan says, and it still takes five minutes from them to get to the door, kids hugging him left and right. After they wave goodbye to the smiling faces at the window, and they see the kids get back to work, Dan and Phil slump against someone’s fence.

“Jesus  _ Christ _ you need a lot of energy around kids.” Dan exclaimed, and Phil nodded.

“That was  _ amazing.  _ I could hear your non-sarcastic sarcasm. That was priceless.” Dan nodded, smiling lifting his face (that kind of hurt, now. Dan hadn’t smiled for so long, and suddenly  _ wham! _ And he’s smiling for an hour straight.

Louise comes out a few minutes later and hands them the envelope, rushing back inside after. Dan tears it open and out fall the bills. Dan passes them to Phil, who rifles through them quickly.

“Two hundred. I s’pose that’s a fair bit for a few books.” Phil says, but Dan can hear the disappointment. A message pops up on Dan’s phone, and he slides across, not believing his eyes. He passes it to Phil.

“‘Don’t worry guys- that’s just for teaching. More coming once the kids leave school- you might wanna get your energy back up. Stampede coming.’” Phil reads, and they have enough time to look at each other before a bell sounds.

“Sweet memories,” Dan grimaces, and rises to his feet. He offers Phil a hand, which he accepts, and they watch as the kids flood out, running with too-big bags and bright smiles to parents. Dan’s searching the crowd for one particular red-head, when something grabs onto his leg. He looks down to see Arlette, smiling wider than he’s ever seen her.

“Hi Dan!”

“Hi, Arlette.” Dan replies, bending down to hug her.

“Dan, can you please teach me how to write when I get bigger?” She asks (definitely a fic-writer. But what fandom?).

“Of course, Ar. Now you better get back to your parents before they miss you!” he says, standing up.

“Bye, Dan!” She calls, smiling one last time before running away. Dan turns to Phil, who’s smirking.

“Fic writer?” Phil asks, and it’s Dan’s turn to smirk.

“Oh yeah,”

~~~

Louise walks out with another envelope ten minutes later, bag slung over her shoulder.

“I hope you boys come back soon. The kids  _ loved  _ you! Arlette, especially. I think you’ve made her come out of her shell. Well, here’s the book payment. Good luck!” Louise said, giving them both a hug. Then she was off, and it was Dan’s turn to check the cash.

“Four eighty,” Dan said, and Phil handed over his stack.

“Six-eighty.” Dan pulled out the stack Bob gave them earlier, putting that on top (Dan had to use two hand to hold it all. Phil looked ready to go chasing after it if it flew).

“Nine sixty-eight.” Dan looked at Phil.

“Two eighty-two to go.” Dan whispered, shoving the money in Phil’s bag and sliding his back against the fence.

“Two eighty-two. Two hundreds, eight tens, two ones.” Phil sat down beside him, patting his back.

“Two hundred and eighty-two dollars, zero cents.” Dan tried breaking it down in his head (which was resting in his hands- why were his shoulders shaking?).

“Two-” Dan couldn’t finish, he was too busy trying to stop the tears pouring out of his eyes.

“Shh.. sh..” Phil tried rubbing circles on his back.

“It’s not over. We’re not done. We can print some more copies, go door knocking. We can work all night in the shop. I’m not the one who charmed the one who gave up on you.”

“What a catch, what a catch,” Dan sang softly, wiping away his tears. He had always found ‘What a Catch, Donnie’ relatable. Now it felt like the soundtrack to his life. ‘I got troubled thoughts/ And a self esteem to match/ what a catch’ felt pretty relevant at the moment. Meet the one, move in with the one, have to leave the one.

Dan laughed bitterly (where is your boy tonight?).

“May as well. Sugar, we’re goin’ down swingin’.” Phil replied, helping Dan up.

“I’ll go to the shop, you get home and feed Mitsy. Meet you outside the coffee shop in ten minutes.” Phil said, kissing Dan briskly on the head before walking away (if only it actually happened). Phil just gave him a quick squeeze instead.

~~~

“Okay. We’re targeting old people and people with kids and kids and… may as well do everyone.” Phil tried supplying their target audience, but ended up shrugging.

“I’ve printed off some more than others for rareness, and painted some gold trim on a few for ‘limited edition’. I also brought a gold sharpie just in case. You-” Phil was cut off by Dan grabbing the sharpie out of his pocket and grabbing his face.

“Hold still.” Dan said, drawing on his nose and cheeks.

When Dan was done he held up his phone to show a shiny-cat Phil. 

“My turn!” Phil said, drawing some more realistic ones on Dan.

“Let’s go.” Phil said, hoisting the bag onto his shoulder and setting off.

They left no house un-knocked, and also did some quick around the house jobs (one lady asked Dan to stay and write meaningful birthday cards. Phil laughed at the time, until a little girl a few houses down asked him to paint her pictures. Like, twenty of them). 

Dan flopped at the door to their own house.

“We did it,” he breathed, gulping in air (Framlingham may not have a lot of people, but it sure has a lot of space).

“Yeah. How much did we make?” Phil pulls out a stack and leans against the door, moving his fringe out of the way so his forehead could breathe.

Dan flipped through.

“One forty.” Dan said, flopping further into his slouch.

“One forty two to go.” Phil replied, leaning his head back against the door. 

“We’ve literally traversed  _ every. Single. House.  _ In this entire town! And done so much work. I haven’t raked a yard in years.”

Dan shook his head. 

“The only thing I can think of is a one-night show…” Dan said, smirking at Phil who cuffed him on the back of his head.

“Dan! No!” he cried, blushing to profusely at… images… to do anything more.

“But in all seriousness, there is literally nothing left to do.”

“I’m gonna check the web for those paying surveys, come help.” Phil asked, offering Dan a hand up.

“Fine,” Dan replied, accepting the hand up and unlocking the door, patting Mitsy as she jumped around their feet.

“Hey, girl,” Dan sighed, bending down and nuzzling her, letting her tongue slosh over his face.

Phil squats down beside him and starts rubbing her behind the ears. Phil figured he needed to voice the thing they were both thinking.

“What- where is Mitsy going to go when we leave?” Even Phil couldn’t see them getting out of this one.

“I don’t know. We can talk about it later.” Phil could feel him closing the doors, locking up inside and retreating into his mind.

“Okay,” Phil replies quietly, watching as Dan gets up and walks away, head hanging forward.

“Okay.”

~~~

When Dan walks in, Phil’s sitting on the couch, staring dumbly at his screen.

“Hey, I’m sorry about earlier. I’m worried,” He says, sitting down beside him and grabbing his own laptop, googling ‘free surveys fast’.

“We both are. Trust me.” Phil replies, and Dan looks over to see he’s on the thirtieth page of search results. Dan closes the browser and opens his word document for the novel he’s nearly finished (he had so much muse a few days ago, before, well everything crashed down around him. Now he’s exhausted his water supply, and if he’s moving away from his muse… Dan shudders at the thought).

The blinking cursor is too much for Dan. He slams his laptop closed and leans on Phil, closing his eyes for just a minute.

~~~

Phil closes his laptop, too, when he knows Dan is asleep. There’s no miracle. There’s nothing left except now. So Phil takes now. He takes it, and he flies away with it. He kisses Dan on the top of his head.

Dan doesn’t move.

Phil leans his head there, softly at first, but then putting his full weight there. He’s so tired, so bone-dead and weary. Maybe he should take a break too. Maybe…

~~~

Dan’s awakened by a buzzing in his back pocket. He jumps a bit, and hits his head on something. He moves his eyes up to see Phil, fast asleep on top of his head. He sighs, smiles, and wriggles his phone out, answering it.

“Hello?”

“Dan, time’s up. I’ll be there in twenty. Bring the money.” Dan hears the landlord’s voice, clipped and brusque.

“See you then,” Dan says, but the call’s already ended. Phil mumbles on his head and he dials Louise’s number. She picks up on the first ring.

“Hi, Louise. Dan here. We didn’t get enough. Landlord’s coming in twenty minutes. Thanks for everything.”

“Okay, Dan. I’ll be here to send you off, anyways. You probably need help moving, hey?” Dan nods, then realises this is a phone conversation.

“Okay. Thanks. See you soon.” Dan disconnects her half-way through her goodbyes. He can’t deal with this. He figures it would be better to wake Phil now rather than later.

“Phil… Phil, wake up.” Dan starts making minute head movements and shaking Phil’s arm lightly.

“Phil… Phil,” Dan calls, and receives a ‘mmpth’ in return.

“Phil… Phil.” Dan feels the weight lift off his head and settle onto his shoulder, Phil murmuring softly.

“Phil,” Dan only has to say his name once more before Phil lifts his head, Dan turning his to meet Phil’s eyes. There’s one thing Dan didn’t expect so see.

Tears. Tears running down Phil’s face. Dan holds Phil’s face in his hands and wipes away the tears with his thumbs, shh-ing and half-laughing and maybe even tearing up himself.

“It’s okay. What happened?” Phil rubs his eyes, and Dan can’t help thinking what a hell he’s going to have to go through without seeing Phil’s face daily, nearly all day.

“I- had a dream. It was- was- we were at the house. We had a great day. You burnt waffles for breakfast and watched me paint and we had dinner in the forest. And then- then I realised this is it. That’s never going to happen again. It really is all over.” Phil’s head is dropping, and Dan pulls Phil into his chest, not caring that his shirt’s getting wet (it’s not like he only put it on this morning- he’s been wearing it for a few days now).

Dan can’t think of anything to say except “Louise is coming, and so is the landlord,” so instead he pats the dog and Phil and tries to burn every memory into his brain forever.

~~~

Phil doesn’t tell Dan that in his dream, they’re holding hands, they’re kissing and teasing and Phil sees his visions at the vet’s in full clarity (it’s a ring that’s glinting on Dan’s finger. Phil has a matching one). It’s all true that it’s over, but Phil doesn’t tell Dan that it hasn’t begun, either. The better part. The one where they date, marry. Maybe adopt… more dogs. Phil finishes his tears and pulls away, looking at a blurry Dan.

There he is. The angel, the halo and the wings and those eternal brown eyes. Phil could paint him all day.

There’s a knock at the door. Phil can hear Dan gulp and figures he wants to get ready, so he waves him away and answers the door (Phil’s lucky he’s a peaceful sleeper, if he was Dan, he’d go neaten up, too).

Phil’s faced with Louise and he nearly cries all over again.

“Louise, how are you doing?”

“Fine compared to you. Where’s the tea? You both need some,” At this moment, Phil’s grateful Louise is such a motherly character. He gestures to the kitchen, and Louise bustles in, banging around as she tries to find everything. Phil just sits up at the bench.

There’s another knock at the door, and Phil clenches his eyes shut (maybe if he closes his eyes for long enough, it’d all go away? Then again, Phil doesn’t want to lose  _ everything _ . He opens his eyes).

Phil walks over, straightening his shirt and opening the door, somehow mustering a smile.

“Hi there.” Phil doesn’t invite him in, and it turns out he doesn’t need an invitation. He walks in, shuffles his boots on the bare floorboards, and stops stock still. Phil follows his gaze to Louise, who’s standing just outside the kitchen.

“You?!” She exclaims, stomping forward. Dan emerges from the hallway, hair half-straightened (those goddamned butterflies won’t go away).

“I- um. Heh. Guess I can’t say you got the wrong guy?” He says, and Louise grabs him by the collar. Dan runs over to Phil and stands, making their arms touch.

“Nope. Not this time, Betsalel.” Phil’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. Betsalel?! He thought his name was Roger!

“Heh. Boys,” he turns his head to them, Louise still staring daggers.

“Won’t you help a landlord out?” Phil opens his mouth to answer, but Louise yells over the top of him.

“Landlord?!  _ You’re  _ the landlord? PATHETIC! Dan, be a dear and grab my phone and call Roger. Put him on speakerphone.” Dan scrambles to obey, obviously feeling the same confusion and fear that Phil is.

“Hello?” A gruff voice answers, and Louise sounds sugar-sweet.

“Hi there, Roger! It’s me, Louise. You know how you were missing your son? Yeah, well, I found him. It’s not good. Come to flat thirteen, ASAP. Bring Bob. Thanks!” Louise looks up at Dan, and he fumbles to end the call. 

“Guys, it looks like I owe you an explanation. Betsalel here, well, he was Roger’s son. They’ve lived in Framlingham all their lives. Betsalel, however, ran away after a chain of events. I dated him in high school, and then broke up when I found out he was cheating on me with another girl. Her and I became good friends after that, but anyway, he then stole some stuff from the coffee shop. Small stuff, cups, chairs. Either way, this made a ripple when they caught him stealing the stuff, and poor Roger found a stash of stolen things in Betsalel’s room. Betsalel got off with a small fine, but then he disappeared. We found him again, a few years ago, stealing stuff out of the local store, this time. Two hundred dollar fine. He disappeared for good, that time, until here he is. Now, Betsalel, I don’t suppose you’ve been giving the money to your father, have you?” Phil stood there with his mouth wide open. His brain wasn’t quite processing what he was hearing. There was another knock on the door, and Louise opened it one handed, the other hand still holding Roger, well, Betsalel, in the other.

“Hi, Roger, Bob.” Phil watches with further amazement as the door opens. Standing there is Roger, supposedly, and Bob, the coffee shop owner, only this time with a badge and handcuffs.

“Hey, guys. Sorry we couldn’t meet on better terms. Thanks again for working all those hours, it saved me a fair bit.” Bob says, handcuffing Betsalel and turning to face them.

“I s’pose there are a few things about this town you still don’t know. I’m a plainclothes policeman. You’ve obviously been told Betsalel is not Roger. He’s been stealing your money. We’ll get that back. You’re not the best hider of things, are you?” He directs the last statement at the handcuffed man.

“There’s probably gonna be a trial, this time. Oh, perchance, since you two seem to attract criminals, would you know someone by the name of Aimal?” He pronounces it like Amill.

“A-I-M-A-L?” Bob spells it out, and something obviously clicks in Dan’s brain, as he jumps into action.

“L-A-M-I-A. Lamia! From the vet and the coffee shop!” Phil just groans. Not only was he being tricked by one criminal, he had chatted with another.

“She works at the vet and gets ridiculous orders at the coffee shop. She should be there in about ten minutes, keeping up tradition.” Bob nods at Dan and inclines his head.

“Thank you all. I called back up when I came, so they should be here in a minute. You guys can go with me and Betsalel and grab your missing cash, and the others can go grab Lamia. We’ll let you guys, uh, go collect yourselves.” Bob looks slightly awkward and closes the door, Louise following with a wave. They look at themselves, crinked, day-old and amazed, and at each other. Phil runs over and kisses Dan, arms wrapping around him as they embrace.

If only Phil had the same courage in daytime as he did in the night. They hugged instead, Phil closing his eyes in bliss.

“We’re safe. We’re here, we’re lucky.” Dan whispered, squeezing.

“We better get changed,” Phil whispered back, and they pulled away. 

~~~

They walked outside a few minutes later, and Dan noticed Phil had a bit of a latte moustache (they had enough time to drink the teas Louise made them. Dan didn’t even know they owned latte packets).

“Er, Phil,” Dan makes a wiping motion across his own mouth, and Phil just quirks an eyebrow. Louise is holding in chuckles.

“What?” Phil asks indignantly, crossing his arms (Dan’s stomach was doing a ballet routine in his stomach, how did Phil still manage to look hot?).

Dan moved his hand quickly, using his index finger to gather the foam, wiping it onto Phil’s hand.

“ _ That.” _ Dan said, furrowing his eyebrows. Phil sighs and turns to Bob. Betsalel’s sitting on the ground, head in his hands.

“Okay, I think that’s it.” Dan says, and the small procession marches away. Bob leading, with Betsalel in tow, Roger and Louise chatting away and Dan and Phil shuffling along behind. They pass a few houses on their way to Roger’s house, and soon they have their own parade trailing along behind, murmuring speculations about what was happening. Dan’s mouth quirked a little at one corner. ‘What happened?’, especially with a ‘next’ in there, was Dan’s writer achilles heel.

They reached Roger’s house and he opened the door (nobody bothered to lock doors when everyone knew everyone). He mumbled apologies as they walked through his house, opening the door to Betsalel’s room. 

Within was worse than Phil’s room was two nights ago. There were old records, chairs, a coffee table, a few umbrellas and a whole chest of drawers. Amidst the eye-catching things, there were thousands upon thousands of tiny knick-knacks- spoons, figurines, stuffed animals, what looked like a coffee maker, cushions, balls of all sizes and sports, a few tins of paint and a whole collection of pencils. 

“Kleptomania- a condition in which the sufferer cannot resist the impulse to steal things with a reason aside from personal use and financial gain.” Dan said, and then ducked his head slightly. He looked around nervously, gauging the reactions of the people around him. Phil grabbed his hand and squeezed it, and he knew it meant it was okay. Dan relaxed his muscles.

“Quite right, Dan. Now, Betsalel, where did you hide Dan and Phil’s money?” Bob asks, and Betsalel points to a ‘My Little Pony’ school bag. Bob moves over and struggles with the zip for a bit before opening it. Dan sneaks a glance at both Phil and Louise, waiting until they look over.

‘Bob Bobs’ Dan mouths. Louise bursts out laughing, which she tries to cover up with a cough, and Phil just contains his giggles. Bob looks around strangely, then Dan just shrugs and he continues digging.

“Ah, here we are.” Bob says, pulling out wads of cash and zip-locked bags bulging with coins. Dan’s eyes widen with surprise. 

“So  _ that’s  _ how much money we’ve lost,” Dan whispers, and Phil just nods. Bob pulls stack after stack out, until he’s surrounded by the small piles of money. 

“Well, I’ll let the town know if they gave any money to this guy, we’ve got it. Well, you guys will have it. Even the kids have heard of Betsalel De Muller, seen his face.” Bob’s smiling, and Dan’s grin is so big it feels like it could break his face in two. 

“We’ll put it all in, er…” Bob looks around for suitable vessels and finds none.

“Looks like you manly men have to carry the cash home in the ‘My Little Pony- Friendship Forever’ bag.” Bob says, and the three employees exchanged amused glances while Bob’s loading it up.

“I can’t thank you enough, Bob.” Bob just inclines his head towards Phil. They’re standing outside Roger’s house, roses in the front garden wilting slightly, as if mourning something.

“We’ll work extra shifts sometime soon. Let us know.” Dan finishes, taking his turn to shake Bob’s hand.

“Anytime, gents. See you all in at six tomorrow!” Bob says, and Phil slumps slightly.

“Just kidding. I’ll push your shifts back a few days. See you then.” Bob says, and then he’s dragging Betsalel into the waiting cop car.

Phil turns to Louise. 

“Louise, you literally just saved both of our butts from just about the worst thing ever. We owe you a million, and we intend on paying all those favours back. Louise, you’re literally the best.” Dan says, and Phil’s heart sinks a little unconsciously at Dan’s high praise.

“That’s okay. I needed to get that bastard back, and you guys gave me that. Thank  _ you. _ If you ever want some spare change, the class would love to have you back.” Phil hugs Louise, and then Dan does, and she walks off.

The sun was high in the sky. Lazy clouds traversed the sky, not enough to signify rain, but enough to make the sky more pleasant. A car rolled past every so often. It was a lazy, let’s-do-nothing kind of day. The crowd had followed Betsalel away, either left for work or were staying inside, where it was cool. Phil’s stomach rumbled, and Dan smirked over at him.

“Well. That was a wild ride from start to finish.” Dan said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Yeah.” Phil replied, letting his gaze float around the neighborhood.

“We best be getting back. Who is going to have the honour of carrying the backpack?” Dan replied, swinging the hideously pink bag around his wrist.

“Um…” Phil said, looking rather dubious.

“I will. Even though it will ruin my aesthetic, I’ll take one for the team.” Dan replied, moving a hand over his forehead dramatically.

“Thanks, Dan.”

“No problem.” Dan started walking, swinging the bag around merrily. Phil rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“Hey, Dan…” 

“Yeah?”

“Just out of interest… are you straight?” Phil figured he better get it out of the way before he did anything else.

“Um…” Dan blushed and stopped swinging the bag.

“Well, I, uh, I’m not sure. I’ve liked girls before, and… guys? …So I s’pose I’m bi?” Dan answered uncertainly, turning his head to face Phil.

“How about you?”

“Uh… yeah. ...I’m pretty sure I’m gay.” For some reason Phil hadn’t thought beyond asking Dan.

“Oh, okay.” Dan says, and looks up at the sky. There follows an awkward silence, until Dan starts whistling.

“Is that… are you whistling the  _ Pokemon  _ theme song?” Phil asks, eyebrows raised. Dan just nods and continues.

“I will travel, across the land, searching far and wide,” Phil sings softly along, jerking his hands at his sides.

“Each pokemon to understand, the power that’s inside,” Dan sings, and they both grin at each other.

“POKEMON! Gotta catch ‘em all!” They sing, and Dan breaks into a run. Phil races to catch up to him. Dan’s running and grinning, turning around occasionally to look at Phil.

“It's you and me!” Dan sings back, pointing at both of them. Phil’s gaining, but he’s still got a way to go.

“I know it’s my destiny-POKEMON!” Phil jumps and punches the air, stumbling on his landing. Dan just laughs and slows, making sure to see Phil keeps running before speeding up.

“Oh, you’re my best friend,” Dan says, using two hands to point at Phil as he turns around again (why does Dan get all the good lines?).

“In a world we must defend!” Phil punches down on each word.

“POKEMON!” They both jump up this time, and Phil sticks the landing.

“Gotta catch ‘em all, a heart so true,” Phil sings, and Dan turns his head and winks at him (Phil hadn’t done this much exercise in ages, but he wasn’t feeling too bad- yet).

“Our courage will pull us through!”

“You teach me-”

“And I teach you-”

“POK-E-MON!” At this point they’re just yelling the lyrics and half-dancing like idiots. Phil’s nearly caught up to Dan, and he’s reminded of the time where Dan stole his blanket.

“Gotta catch ‘em al-”

“Gotta catch ‘em all!!” Dan’s not turning around so much, as they’re getting closer to their house. Phil spies a patch of grass not too far away, he figures he can catch up to Dan by then. The plan is in place.

“YEAH!” Phil sings, and Dan whistles the guitar riff. It’s a few more steps and Phil’s behind Dan, and can hear Dan panting. Phil waits until he’s certain everything’s going to go to plan, and he tackles Dan, the momentum throwing them both onto the grass. Dan’s half screaming and Phil’s laughing and Phil reckons the neighbors won’t be able to look at them again, but that’s okay.

“PHIL! What was that for?!” Dan asked, rolling Phil off him. Phil falls to the ground with a thud, and he can see Dan’s eyes widen as he lifts his head up, getting more comfortable.

“For  _ running, _ I haven’t done that since high-school PE!” Phil exclaims, rolling onto his back. The sky's cerulean, and the clouds have multiplied. Phil points.

“Look! It’s a dragon!” he says, wiggling closer to Dan so he can see where Phil’s pointing.

“Huh. So it is.” Dan says, glazing over the clouds before meeting Phil’s eyes out of the corner of his own. Dan’s gaze is a steadying force. Phil’s seen it so many different ways, but each time is different. This time it’s like a fire, like one’s they’ve lit occasionally back at home. It’s like coming home and warmth, like the summer sun and winter breeze and knowing. 

~~~

Phil’s looking at him like he’s seeing him for the first time all over again. Dan can’t let himself fall into Phil’s eyes. He’d get lost, he’d fall and he’d drown in those crystalline blue depths (it would be the best way to go). He looks away, staring again at the clouds. If only… Dan rolled back over and faced Phil, arm making a pillow for himself (he was nose-to-nose with Phil- when did they get so close?).

Dan coughed awkwardly but that did nothing to deter Phil's intense stare. Dan was avoiding looking, staring at everything except Phil's face. His gaze flitted from the sky, to the grass, and then down Phil's body… He stopped himself at the waist. Why tempt himself?

Dan coughed again, trying to wiggle further backwards, but he looked into Phil's eyes again (damn it. Damn it all. He'd done it this time). He could faintly feel his heart thumping along in his chest as he fell (to be fair, he had fallen a long time ago. Now he was just pushing away the barrier and going into free fall).

Phil's eyes excited him- they were fires and floods and flashes of lightning. They were unpredictable, they were terrifying. They were focused on his, and Dan’s mouth was drying out fast. He licked his lips, and didn't even bother coughing to try and snap Phil out of his state. His eyes were fire left unattended, burning the city down just to show Dan the light.

Dan tore his gaze away, and he could feel the fire die down. He had pulled Phil out of whatever he was in. Now they were both avoiding each other, Dan even going as so far as to flip onto his back and turn his head the other way, running his hands through the clovers.

“I don't even remember where we are,” Phil said absentmindedly, and Dan could hear the whooshing of clover stems.

“We're in a clover patch, apparently.” Dan said, and one clover caught his eye. He reached out for it, and plucked it out of the ground. Dan held it up and dragged his gaze over it, before noticing something and looking at it again.

“Phil! Look!” Dan rolled over to face Phil. They nearly headbutted, and Phil's eyes were still beautiful. Phil raised an eyebrow in question.

“A four leaf clover!” Dan exclaimed excitedly, bringing it up in front of his face so Phil could see it. Around the verdant greenness of it, Dan could see Phil grinning.

“Er- I wonder if the faeries sprinkled their lucky dust here?” Phil says, and Dan smiles and shakes his head at Phil. Always a world away, except, maybe this time, Dan was a world away too.

“Probably. Here, you have it.” Dan holds out the four leaf clover, and he can feel his cheeks heating up as Phil pushes it away.

“No. D-Dan…” Phil leans forward (Dan doesn’t know what’s happening. Does he even have a stomach anymore?). 

“I don’t  _ need _ a four-leaf clover,” Dan’s face fell a bit. 

“I have you.  _ You’re _ my lucky one. Dan, I- I’ve be-” Dan leaned forward. Time slowed, he could see Phil in great detail (maybe he’d been wrong all this time. Maybe Phil’s eyes  _ weren’t _ blue, but a spectrum of green through indigo). Dan’s lips met Phil’s halfway. Phil’s eyes widened with surprise, but he didn’t pull away. Dan pressed forward, and their heads bumped lightly against one another’s. Dan could feel Phil’s smile on his lips, and  _ God _ was it the most incredible experience of his life. Dan could hear the clovers whispering in the wind. Dan always thought Phil smelled just like his deodorant, but up-close he could scent tea and paint and coffee (how did paint smell this  _ good? _ ). Dan moves his arm so it drapes over Phil’s shoulder, and Phil’s still smiling and there’s a car driving past. 

Dan moves away with a jolt.

“Phil, I-...” Dan doesn’t know what to say. What  _ do _ you say to someone you just kissed? (Dan doesn’t know).

“Dan… You’re my lucky one,” Phil laughs slightly.

“I don’t need a clover because I have  _ you. _ Ever since I met you… You’re  _ it. _ You’re my muse. I’ve liked you ever since that first day at the coffee shop. I’ll tell you a secret…” Phil leans forward and pushes his nose against Dan’s (he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have a heart anymore).

“I don’t like eggs benedict either,” Dan laughs along, but his inside have been tipped upside-down and he may be having a heart attack (but that’s all okay).

“I couldn’t bear to see your face like that… and you were taking up more than your fair share of my vision.” Dan blinked because he had been having the same issue for months.

“Funny that… I realised the day after. I couldn’t see you take anything from that adorable jar of yours… and I realised I’d rather let you have your dream than follow my own.” Dan said, twisting the four-leaf clover around one finger.

“Dan…” Phil looked into his eyes, and Dan nearly melted into a puddle.

“You can pay me back by doing one thing.” Dan said, breath sticking in his esophagus. 

“Of course.”

“What happened that night in the forest?” Dan wasn’t sure if he could feel his finger anymore, but the tension was killing.

“Well… this wasn’t our first kiss.” Dan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

“You were drunk, and you kissed me- I didn’t know if you’d do that sober, so I pushed you off… you ran back to the house. I couldn’t face you, I just pushed you away. I was assuming, since you were such a  _ lightweight _ ,” Phil poked Dan’s stomach, and Dan giggled.

“I figured you wouldn’t remember what happened. I couldn’t deal with that, so I hid out at PJ’s…”

“PJ’s, of  _ course! _ I was trying to figure out where you went.” Dan rolled his eyes at his own stupidity.

“Well… what happens now?” Phil asks, and Dan freezes. 

“I don’t- well, actually, we have to burn that bag.” Dan swears Phil’s laugh is the cutest thing ever (for once Dan’s out of good words).

“Not with the money in it.”

“Agreed. What  _ are _ we going to do with all this cash?” Dan asks, and Phil’s eyes are suddenly blazing.

“Well… since your story is finished, and my art’s pretty well ready… I think you can publish, and I can probably exhibit.”

~~~

Dan’s eyes light up and suddenly there’s a thousand stars in those brown depths. Phil can’t help it. He leans forward and kisses Dan on the mouth, and Dan quirks a brow.

“Why?” Was all Dan could be bothered to ask (Phil was on cloud nine, scratch that, cloud  _ eleven.  _ Nobody could touch him up here. Except Dan. Dan could always touch him, anywhere Phil was).

“You’re beautiful,” Phil replied, and he could feel his cheeks reddening again as he tried to shrug it off.

“What are we, boyfriends?”

“Well… if you wanna be. Scratch that. Daniel James Howell, will you be my boyfriend?” Phil pulls out a clover from in front of him and offers it to Dan. Dan’s eyes have a watery sheen over them, and he hugs Phil.

“Yes, Philip Michael Lester.  _ Yes.  _ You’re my lucky one too.”

~~~

Dan’s trying to tie his bowtie, but his fingers were never good with knots.

“Dan. Come here.” Phil pulls him over by the suit jacket, and does his bowtie with ease (Dan doesn’t mind, standing very close to Phil is never a problem). (Not like it ever was, but still).

Once Phil’s done, Dan gravitates to the mirror, running his hands through his hair and straightening his suit jacket. He’s focusing too intently on himself he doesn’t notice Phil until his arms are wrapped around his waist.

“Dan, you look  _ fine. _ In fact, better than fine. You look incredible, as always.” Dan’s blushing, and Phil fixes his bowtie for him.

“Th-thanks,” he stutters, and Phil pecks him on the cheek and goes back to putting on his shoes.

“Phil, do you  _ have _ to wear mismatched socks?  _ Really? _ This is a big night.” Phil just smiles knowingly.

“My exhibition. Maybe I could change the dress code to non-matching socks.” He says, matter-of-factly.

“Too late. We have to leave in,” Dan checks his phone and nearly drops it.

“Three minutes! Phillip, get your butt out that door!” Phil hurriedly grabs his messenger bag and sweeps a bunch of stuff off the set of drawers in. Dan watches as Phil-half jogs through the house, grabbing both his and Dan’s laptops and swinging out the door. Dan shakes his head and quickly picks up Phil’s phone, notebook and favourite pencils, two travel mugs of tea and some chocolate, pats the dog, and closes the door behind him. Phil grabs his hand, and they walk off into the night.

~~~

“Dan, there’s like… people here,”

“Yes, Phil, generally people do exist.”

“No, but people came to see… my art. They’re here because they like  _ my  _ stuff.” Dan just nodded and ruffled Phil’s hair.

“Yeah, Phil. Just remember, I like you more than anyone in there.” Dan threw a cursory glance inside the gallery and saw what looked to be a thousand-dollar suit. 

“Also, don’t spill anything. There are people with money in there. If you can’t eat it on a bumpy road, don’t pick it up.” Dan said, squeezing Phil’s hand and pulling him in close.

“You ready?”

“Always,” Phil replied, and pecked Dan on the lips (Dan would never get used to the casual kisses they shared now).

Dan straightened Phil’s tie and they entered.

~~~

The room was a whirl of faces, of ‘thank yous’ and ‘nice to meet yous’, for the next three hours. Dan took photos of Phil’s art on the walls, and Phil standing with their buyers (in more than one photo Phil was teary and red faced) (still beautiful, though).

Louise was there in a stunning pink dress, and Chris and PJ too. Bob had arrived briefly, but disappeared a while ago. After all the art had been sold and the gallery closed, the five of them ended up back at Dan and Phil’s flat (it took a while to walk- they were all a little tipsy on expensive champagne).

“So,” Louise started, glancing pointedly at Dan and Phil’s joined hands.

“You guys are a thing now? Since when?”

“Well, since last week, on our way back from Roger’s house.” Louise just smiled.

“Ten bucks,” PJ said, and Chris handed him the money. Dan raised an eyebrow.

“Chris said you guys would take at least another three months to get together, I said sometime before three months.” Dan’s mouth was hanging open, and he didn’t have to turn to know Phil’s was too.

“So you guys were betting on…  _ when  _ we were getting together.”

“Dan, mate, we’re your guys’ best friends aside from each other. We  _ know _ . Plus, we’re friends too, and information travels.” Chris patted Dan on the shoulder consolingly. 

Louise held up her glass “To Dan and Phil!” she said, and they all clinked glasses and drank to that (nobody realised they were still holding the flutes from the gallery at the time. It was a different story the morning after).

~~~

It was morning, or maybe it was still night. Everything was blurry and strobe-y (There’s a reason why Phil isn’t a writer). Dan was laying on Phil’s stomach, and they were out in the clearing by the lake. Every so often Mitsy would lick one of their hands, and they would rouse from a state of half-consciousness.

“I wonder where the faeries are tonight,” Dan mused, twirling a piece of his fringe around his finger.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t really matter.”

“No? Why?”

“You’re lucky enough for me, remember?” Phil leaned over Dan and let his fringe tickle Dan’s face.

“Lucky one” Dan mused, moving slowly to press his lips to Phil’s.

“My lucky one.”

~~~

-AN DEIREADH (the end)


End file.
